


Life of a Modern Assassin

by anubislover



Series: Billionaire Brotherhood AU [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boys Being Boys, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Family Drama, Family Feels, First Christmas, Fluff and Humor, Hamilton References, Les Misérables References, Marriage Proposal, Modern Assassins (Assassin's Creed), Movie Night, One Shot Collection, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prequel, References to Ouran High School Host Club, Sequel, Sleepovers, Unrequited Crush, Vignette, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Planning, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-02-01 23:29:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 39,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12715035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anubislover/pseuds/anubislover
Summary: It's tough being businessmen, revolutionaries, philanthropists, playboys, models, actresses, and assassins. This is a look into our modern brotherhood as they deal with everything from love to family drama to irritating friends.





	1. Birthday Phonecalls

**Author's Note:**

> Vignettes, one-shots, and just fun little shorts about the lives of the Brotherhood from "The Dubai Seduction." Chapters will probably range from fluffy to funny to full of feels and could take place anytime before, during, or after my original story. Suggestions for chapters are always welcome.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor only has one birthday wish, and with the help of his meddling grandfather, it might finally come true.

“Go to hell!”

Slamming the phone down, Connor resisted the urge to let out a scream of frustration. He was beginning to think he kept a landline in his apartment for the sole purpose of angrily hanging up on his father. Turning off a cell phone simply didn’t have the same impact.

“Well, that sounded pleasant,” said Edward, strolling in from the kitchen, a cup of coffee probably mixed with Cuban rum in his hand.

Carding his fingers through his long hair, Connor replied, “Father’s again insisting I should give up my work with the reservation and run for office.” Putting on a stuffy English accent, he did his best imitation of Haytham, “‘Protecting native land is a lost cause, Connor. The only way you could possibly make an impact now is to run for office. I could help you with that. Your charitable work will look good to the voters, and your minority status will be a real asset.’”

“Bloody hell, did he actually say that?” his grandfather asked incredulously.

“Yes! How did mother ever tolerate that son of a—” he cut himself off, realizing he probably shouldn’t insult his grandmother in front of Edward. Stiffly sitting on the couch, Connor sighed. “I’ve told him, over and over, I don’t want to run for office. Politics are not for me. Why can’t he just accept that?”

Rolling his eyes, Edward took a seat beside him. “You an’ me, we’re not men meant to govern. He of all people should know being in the spotlight limits what you can do. It’s why he sticks to campaign managing, not running himself. But that’s not your only grievance.” The Welshman peered at him critically. “My idiot son didn’t even wish you a happy birthday, did he?”

Looking away, Connor tried to hide his shame. “It doesn’t matter.” After all, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d been let down by his father. The others all insisted that he didn’t need Haytham Kenway’s approval, that he was a remarkable, excellent young man whom they all adored, but deep inside a part of him remained that shy, broken little boy hungry for a parent’s love. So every Christmas, birthday, and Thanksgiving, whenever he saw Haytham’s number, his heart strained with the hope that this year, his father might offer just a scrap of the familial recognition he secretly craved.

“It matters to you, so it matters to me,” Edward snapped, slamming his coffee mug down on the end table. “He knows you care, so he gets yer hopes up, tryin’ to manipulate you into abandoning your chosen path and followin’ his!” With a sigh, he collapsed against the cushions. “I’m a failure as a father.”

“No, you’re not.” The words were out of mouth before his brain even registered thinking them, yet he found no reason to take them back.

Edward merely rolled his eyes. “You know damn well I am. He was a good boy. If I’d been there more for him, been a better example of what a dad should be, maybe he wouldn’t have turned into such a shit man.”

Shaking his head, Connor disagreed. “You aren’t perfect, but you were always there for me. Even after the divorce, you always called to check up on us. Mother said you were one of the only white men she felt she could trust, despite your…lackadaisical regard for the law.” He swallowed down a lump in his throat at the memory of his mother. “And you were there for me after…”

Edward refused to let them linger on the memory of the fire. “Someone had to be. She was a good woman, yer mum. Probably her DNA that ensured you became a decent man. Haytham’s lucky you never acted out against him, besides getting a mohawk when you went to college.”

A tiny smirk came to his tan lips. “What about the time I dumped his best tea in the bathtub?”

Laughter echoed through the living room as Edward nearly tumbled off the couch. “Bloody hell, I’d forgotten about that! Aye, that was beautiful! I’d never seen Haytham so angry over something so stupid.”

Connor blushed, though the memory did still conjure up a touch of nerves. Destroying his father’s tea collection had seemed like the perfect way to act out and get his father’s attention. But once he’d seen the absolute rage on Haytham’s face, suddenly it seemed like it was the end of his ten-year-old life. “I honestly thought he might strangle me.”

“Nah. He was just mad because he knew anything more than groundin’ you would have been overkill. That an’ Jenny and Achilles would have killed ‘im if he’d laid a hand on you. To say nothing of what I would have done.”

“I suppose I did have a few people to fill in the parental holes in my life.”

Taking a sip of his coffee and rum, Edward said, “I’m glad you had yer Aunt Jenny and Achilles around. Someone needed to ensure you didn’t turn into a rapscallion like me.”

Despite himself, Connor chuckled. “You may not be what most would consider a good influence, but don’t sell yourself short, Grandfather. Through you I learned what it meant to earn respect, to not hold yourself above others, and that sometimes rules are meant to be broken.”

“Aye. Suppose you did get that ‘fight the man’ mentality from me, even if my form of protest isn’t as peaceful as yours.” Clapping him on the back, Edward cracked a warm, heartfelt grin. “I’m proud of you, Connor, even if I always fuck up your real name.”

He shrugged, though a small blush dusted his cheeks at the praise. He wasn’t his father, but Edward’s words meant almost as much. “I’ve gotten used to it. Mother said Father could never get her name right.”

“He did, once,” Edward corrected. When Connor looked at him, confused, he clarified, “On their wedding day. He wanted a traditional white wedding with all the trimmings. She didn’t give a shit, so she let him have his way, even though she told me she hated the spectacle. Was completely stone-faced at the altar. But the second he said her real name, she got all dewy-eyed and spent the rest of the reception beaming.”

He was shocked. It was such a small thing, but somehow, it rekindled a little bit of faith in his father, even if, logically, he knew it was hopeless.

With a small smile, Edward ruffled his grandson’s dark hair, so unlike his own. “He can make an effort when he knows it matters. Regardless, I’m proud of you, lad. And whether he admits it or not, so is Haytham, in his own way. Now, we can’t just sit around like a couple of lazy land-lubbers; your guests will be here soon, and we’ve got a party to decorate for.”

XXX

A few hours later, Connor had just blown out the candles on his cake, smiling as his friends cheered. It was a small gathering, consisting of Edward, Achilles, Desmond, Ezio, Claudia, Adewale, Mary, Aunt Jenny, and Aveline. They all knew he wasn’t one for large crowds when he could avoid them, and knew it was a great honor to be asked to attend the small party. Though not in attendance, the others had also made sure to send him gifts and well-wishes.

Aveline gave him a peck on the cheek. “What did you wish for, _mon nounours_?”

He pressed his lips to her hair, giving a rueful smile. “The same thing I wish for every year,” he replied, though he mentally added _even though I know it’s a waste_.

“And what is that?” she teased, wagging her eyebrows suggestively.

A faint blush rose to his tanned cheeks. “Not that.”

“Hmm, I suppose there’s no point in wishing for what I’m happy to give you anytime,” she whispered. “So why don’t you tell me?”

“Because if I told you, it won’t come true,” he said evasively.

Luckily Aunt Jenny came to his defense. “If he’s been wishing for something this long, it’s best not to risk it just to sate our curiosity,” she said, giving him a sympathetic look. She was well aware of the rocky relationship between him and Haytham and was more than prepared to give her brother an earful the next time she saw him. “Aveline, dear, why don’t you help me serve the cake? I’m not as good at handling a knife as you.”

Giving him a look that Connor knew meant trouble later, usually in the best way, Aveline followed his aunt over to the table.

Mary quickly took her place, pressing her own kiss to his other cheek. “If it’s for your grandfather to develop a sense of shame, I wish for the same thing. Sadly, it seems we’d be better off asking for something more attainable, like world peace or chocolate that makes you lose weight.”

“He’s not that bad,” Connor defended, even if he couldn’t quite keep the humor out of his eyes.

“That so? Then where is he now?”

Glancing around, his eyebrows furrowed when he realized his grandfather had disappeared somewhere. His other guests were happily tucking into slices of cake, the low hum of friendly chatter filling the room. Tuning his senses onto Edward’s distinctive Welsh accent, he followed it into the kitchen, where the blonde was speaking sternly into the phone.

“I don’t care if you’re having tea with the Queen herself, you’re going to talk to him!” There was a moment of silence as Edward listened to the reply before scolding, “Five minutes won’t kill you. But I can guarantee if you hang up on me I’ll come over there and turn you over my knee like I clearly should have forty years ago.”

Connor gave a slight cough to get his grandfather’s attention, and Edward responded with a smirk. “Here’s the lad now!” Not giving either Connor or the person on the phone a chance to respond, Edward shoved the receiver in his hands and walked back into the living room, calling for Adewale to pour him another drink.

Confused, Connor held the device to his ear. “Hello?”

“Connor?”

His throat closed at his father’s voice, and dread dropped like a stone in his stomach. Mary was right; his grandfather had no shame. What the hell was he even thinking, meddling like this?

Unwilling to let the tense silence linger any longer, Haytham cleared his throat. “It’s come to my attention that in the heat of our…disagreement, I never wished you a happy birthday.”

Connor swallowed heavily, hoping his voice wasn’t shaking too much. “No, you didn’t.”

“I apologize for that. Even if I don’t approve of your life choices, it’s no excuse not to give you the basic courtesy of wishing you well. So, happy birthday, son.”

“I—thank you.”

There was a moment of silence, neither quite knowing what to say, before Haytham chuckled dryly. “It figures. For all I complained about my father not being around when I was a child, he at least always acknowledged my birthday. I couldn’t even do that much.”

“You’re a busy man,” Connor replied awkwardly.

“That’s no excuse,” he said dismissively, British accent crisp and no-nonsense. “We may never see eye-to-eye, but I must admit, I can appreciate you leading your own life. I do think you should put your talents to better use—”

“Father…” Connor growled.

“Still, I am proud of you in a way. You have shown great conviction. Strength. Courage. All noble qualities.”

A tiny, cautious smile came to his lips. “Thank you, Father.”

“You’re welcome Rato…Rantho…Connor.”

The Native man couldn’t suppress the chuckle at his father butchering his name. It appeared not everything had changed.

The sound of Haytham clearing his throat again came through the phone. “Well, I have to go now. Much to do. Enjoy your party.”

“I will. It was…nice speaking with you, Father.”

“Likewise.”

Connor gently hung up the phone, as if fearing too much noise might shatter the dream that he’d had a pleasant conversation with father and force him back into harsh reality. Heading back to the living room, Aveline greeted him with a teasing smile.

“There you are. We were afraid you’d run off before opening your presents.” Leaning close, she murmured in his ear, “Though, if you wanted to slip off, I’d be happy to give you mine in private.”

Giving her a slow, loving kiss, he pressed his forehead to hers. “I can wait until tonight. If it’s any consolation, my wish finally came true.”

“Does that mean you can tell me what it is?” she replied, eyes twinkling.

Connor’s naturally stern face remained neutral, but Aveline could see the happy light that shined in his warm brown irises as he glanced at Edward, who was looking entirely too smug. “Maybe later. Right now, I’d like to continue celebrating with my family.”


	2. Swimming Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maria decides it's time Altair learns to swim. Altair is...far from eager.

“As hilarious as I’m sure this will be, do you really think you’re up to the task of teaching the Novice how to swim?” Malik asked, lounging on one of the deck chairs by the mansion’s pool.

With a sigh, Maria dropped some towels onto a nearby chair. “Your show of support is truly heartwarming, Malik. I’m sure he’ll be especially grateful to have you here giving words of encouragement.”

“I can be plenty encouraging when someone isn’t taking on an impossible task. You might as well be trying to teach a cat to swim.”

“Edward and Mary’s wedding is going to be on a yacht! I’m supposed to just leave things as they are and hope for the best?” she huffed, wading into the shallow pool.

Shaking his head, he simply replied, “I don’t disagree on the necessity; I just don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“He’s is a fully-grown man, Malik. I’m sure he can handle a little water.”

At that moment, Altair strolled into the backyard, and Maria nearly fell backwards in shock. Malik, meanwhile, was bent over laughing at the sight of his best friend.

“What the hell are you wearing?” Maria asked, mortified.

Her normally impeccably-dressed lover was wearing a full-body wetsuit, which wasn’t objectionable itself, but had also chosen to pair it with water wings, a snorkel, and an enormous inflatable rubber tube in the shape of a yellow duck. “Yes, I know I look ridiculous, but I’m taking precautions,” he replied tersely.

“What…how…where did you even get those ridiculous things?”

Once he regained his breath, Malik raised his hand, a devious smirk on his handsome face. “That would be me. I gave those to him five years ago as a birthday present, but I had no idea he’d actually kept them.”

Gingerly dipping a toe into the water, Altair grumbled, “I’d shoved them into the back of my closet. Good thing, too, otherwise I’d have nothing to keep me afloat.”

Maria pinched the bridge of her nose, already regretting her decision to give him swimming lessons. “The water only comes to my chest, you oaf. If you start to drown, just stand up. If anything, those contraptions are more dangerous than if you were naked. And where are your swim trunks? A black wetsuit in this sun is could boil you alive!”

“I’m more worried about the freezing temperature of the water causing my muscles to seize. Clearly, the heating system must be broken. How you can stand in that ice water in a bikini is beyond me.”

“It’s practically bath water!” she insisted. It really was quite pleasant, especially considering the blazing sun beating down on them.

Ignoring her, he glanced at the sky. “I don’t like the look of those clouds, either. Summer lightning storms can come out of nowhere, and I can't risk either of us being in the water if it strikes. I say we go inside and relax in the hot tub.”

“There are only two clouds in the sky. We’d have plenty of warning if the weather turned bad,” she replied, rubbing her temples in frustration.

“ _Habibti_ , are you getting a headache? Maybe we should put this off for another time.”

Patience wearing thin, she snapped, “Altair, either you get in the water of your own free will, or I’ll order Rauf to throw you in!”

The billionaire scowled. “He wouldn’t dare.”

Malik chimed in, “He would if he thought it was for your own good. And if he won’t, I will.”

“Traitor,” he muttered. “Weren’t you the one trying to talk Maria out of this?”

“Yes, but I also won’t pass up the opportunity to knock you down a few pegs.”

Switching tactics, Maria ducked under the water, coming up soaking wet. She smirked as she noticed Altair’s eyes instantly become riveted on how her bathing suit clung to her skin, rivulets of water trailing between her breasts and down her navel. “It’d be a pity if you didn’t come in, my love. The water truly feels amazing.” With a coy smile, she began floating on her back, the sun practically making her alabaster skin glow. “I swear, in this heat it practically feels like a caress. I can only imagine what the water in the Caribbean will feel like. Maybe once the wedding’s over, I’ll go for a little evening skinny-dipping.”

Altair felt his throat tighten. He could vividly imagine Maria in the tropical waters, dressed only in moonlight and shimmering waterdrops, smile teasing as she beaconed him to join her.

With a groan, he tentatively stepped into the water, repressing the shudder of revulsion as the tepid liquid lapped around his ankles. At the approving smile on Maria’s lips, however, he soldiered onwards, until he was finally almost chest-to-chest with his woman.

Her smile turned into a thoughtful frown, though he could still see the spark of humor in her grey eyes. “That snorkel won’t be necessary. If you do start drowning, I’d be happy to give you mouth-to-mouth.”

Immediately Altair ripped it off his face, tossing it over his shoulder where it sank to the bottom of the pool with a _plop_.

Pleased with his obedience, she continued, “You’re going to have to remove the duck, too. After all, if I’m going to teach you how to swim, I need to be close,” she whispered, breath tickling his tan face.

When he hesitated, uncertain of abandoning his safety precautions, but when she reached over the duck to stroke along his abs, he pulled the ridiculous thing off, tossing it at the still smirking Malik.

Maria nodded in approval. “This will do. You can keep the water wings for now, I suppose, but I want them gone by the end of the day.”

“What about the wetsuit?” he teased, pulling her against him.

She gave him a sly wink. “If you do well today, I’ll remove it myself as a reward.”


	3. His Uncut Diamond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maria asks Robert to drive her home after a disastrous date, and Robert finds himself considering her value to him.

The pouring rain that rattled the windows of Robert’s high-rise penthouse set the perfect mood for a quiet night in. It was the first Saturday in a long while where he didn’t have to go into the office to catch up on work, more than partially due to Maria’s exceptional determination and willingness to stay late over the past week to help him finish the numerous proposals and financial reports he’d been hit with. So, with no work to worry about, a glass of Merlot in one hand and a good historical novel in the other, Robert had planned on a nice, relaxing night to himself.

Only three chapters in, however, those plans were ruined by a sudden phone call.

Despite the annoyance at his peace being interrupted, he answered. A man in his position could not afford to miss a call, even on a Saturday night. For all he knew, it was Garnier with information on Project Eden, or Richard King wanting to set up a meeting for Monday morning. “Hello?”

“Your friend is an absolute pig,” his assistant’s crisp British accent snarled through the speaker.

“Maria? What on Earth are you talking about?”

“Your old colleague, Armond Bouchart, is a complete and utter prick and I cannot believe you thought I should date him!” The rage in her voice was palpable, and in his mind’s eye he could picture her stunning grey eyes flashing with fury and frustration.

Robert frowned, brow furrowing in confusion. “Please, tell me what is going on. Armond is a man of good breeding, and I thought the two of you would get along famously.”

He listened to her take a harsh, shuddering breath before she bit out, “Well, we didn’t, and now I’m stuck at the restaurant because he insisted on driving me and when I refused to get in the car with him after dinner he drove off and my taxi never arrived and there’s literally no one else I can call for a ride. So, it’s either you pick me up, or I walk home in this deluge.”

With a sigh, Robert asked for the address and set about putting on shoes. If she weren’t one of his best employees, he wouldn’t bother, but he had no interest in her getting sick from walking around in a storm and having to call out. He liked efficiency, after all, and letting Maria catch so much as a cold might as well be inviting chaos into his orderly life.

Twenty minutes later he pulled in front of a high-end French restaurant, peering through the torrential rain for his rather irritable assistant. He didn’t have to wait long, however, as the passenger door to his Porsche aggressively swung open, a drenched Maria climbing in. Instantly he regretted not bringing a towel; not for her own benefit, of course, but so she wouldn’t ruin the car’s leather seats.

Despite his annoyance and her sodden appearance, Robert couldn’t help but enjoy the way the rain caused her long, midnight-blue gown to hug her curves deliciously. Several wisps of hair stuck to her forehead in a haphazard yet somehow endearing way, and the slit along the side of her dress gave him an unexpected but not unappreciated view of her long, shapely leg. Suppressing his baser instincts, he waited until she was buckled in before setting the car into gear, driving off into the night.

The silence in the car was suffocating, and eventually Robert’s curiosity demanded to be satisfied. “So, tell me about the date. I’m presuming there was a good reason why you wouldn’t let him drive you home?” _And why you had to call me away from a nice, quiet evening,_ he mentally groused.

To any other man, her glare would have been intimidating. “That’s an understatement. You didn’t tell me your old friend had such… _strong_ opinions on a woman’s uses in the office, sir.”

He shrugged, though a deep frown settled across his face. Maria was normally unfailingly respectful towards him, never daring to so much as give him a sideways glance or an eyeroll. Armond must have truly gotten under her skin. “It’s been a long time since I’ve worked with him, but he’d never done anything more objectionable that sleep with an attractive employee, and we’ve all made that mistake.”

Maria flinched at the subtle jab, deflating slightly. “Well, I’m not his employee, but he certainly expected me to sleep with him tonight. All the touching made that clear.”

“Are you sure you weren’t imagining it?” he asked flippantly. “We French have been known to be a bit more affectionate than you Brits.” He’d certainly given her a few calculated touches here and there, ones that straddled the line between seductive and friendly, just to watch her squirm and ensure she’d never quite extinguish that torch he knew she still carried for him. One never knew when a woman’s affections might come in handy.

“Oh, it’s hard to imagine something like that,” she sneered, rubbing her wet hands together in hopes of creating some warmth. “Touching my arm and standing a bit too close to me I can brush off. Even when his hand grazed my breast while opening the car door I could excuse as an accident. Of course, our feet brushing during dinner and the glances at my cleavage were annoying, though far from threatening.” Her fists clenched as she remembered the evening’s events. “But there was no mistaking what the bastard wanted when he groped me under the dinner table.”

The car came to a screeching halt as Robert slammed on the breaks. “He did what?!” Hot anger coiled in his belly like a burning viper. Even the cold, pragmatic part of his brain was screaming with fury. It insulted him on many levels; Maria was his executive assistant, a woman of class and dignity; not some whore he passed around to his associates. A lady like her needed to be coaxed, shown exemplary kindness and admiration before she’d consent to a man’s more overt attentions. His own seduction had taken nearly a year before he’d felt confident enough to bed her, and even then, he’d spiked her drink as a precaution. How dare Armond assume he could just take what Robert had worked hard to ensnare?

On top of that, even if the man hadn’t realized his old friend didn’t hire Maria just for her looks, he should have asked permission first. Robert wasn’t altruistic; everything had a motive, meticulously planned to gain him the most out of a simple action. In this case, he’d hoped to show Maria that he cared about her personal life and wanted only the best for her, further ensuring her loyalty. If he’d wanted to set her up with some lecherous lout, there were plenty of lesser men he could have picked from. One that wouldn’t have risked lowering her opinion of him.

Gasping in shock, she stared at him, stormy eyes wide. “H—he groped my thigh under the table. That’s when I threw my drink at him and stormed out.”

“You should have slapped him,” he snarled through his teeth, hands clenching the wheel so tightly it was surprising his knuckles didn’t split.

Nibbling her lip, heart fluttering like a caged bird at her boss’ unusual display of rage, she said, “That came when he followed me and tried to get me to leave with him.”

He felt an odd swell of pride, a smile briefly lifting his lips as his hard grip on the wheel eased. “Good. I assure you, it was never my intention to send you on a date with such an uncouth lout. I’m glad to hear you can take care of yourself, in any case.” It was at that point that he realized that the woman beside him was shivering, hands rubbing up and down her rain-slick arms in an attempt to stave off the chill. He immediately turned up the heat; he’d agreed to pick her up for the sake of her not getting sick, hadn’t he?

Maria sighed in relief as the hot air immediately washed over her. The car once again began moving, and she felt herself relax slightly, resting her head against the leather seat. After about ten minutes, she spoke again. “I should have seen it coming. He told me that women in the workplace are nothing but a distraction, and questioned how many times I’ve slept with you. Said I must have been something _special_ to have lasted so long, compared to past _secretaries_.”

“You are something special,” he replied, words slipping out of his mouth without even thinking. Clearing his throat to hide his own shock, he continued, “You’re intelligent, hard-working, and unrelenting when you set your mind to a task. I can’t imagine getting by without you.”

“I’m sure you could, sir. I’m just an assistant, after all.” There was a hint of mournful self-deprecation in her voice. “If you were able to fill the position with a girl just out of university, I’m sure finding a replacement would be no trouble. Perhaps the next one won’t be stupid enough to get drunk at the holiday party.”

“We were both drunk, remember?” he lied, working to maintain his calm. This was not how he’d expected his night to go. “If I cared about the fact that we’d slept together, I would have fired you years ago, or at least shuffled you off to some other department. Yet I kept you by my side, and you’ve held the position longer than anyone else I’ve ever employed. What does that tell you?”

“That I haven’t outlived my usefulness yet. Sir, Bouchart is far from the first person to question our working relationship, and I doubt he’ll be the last. People are smart enough not to talk about it in front of you, but if even your friends are questioning your integrity, I wouldn’t blame you for sacking me.”

They’d arrived at her apartment complex by that point, and before he could think of an appropriate response, she’d climbed out of the car, voicing her thanks before running through the rain to the door.

Rolling down the window, Robert called out, “I’ll see you on Monday, _oui_?”

Giving a non-committal wave, she dashed inside.

As he watched her disappear into the building, Robert felt an odd sting in his chest. It couldn’t be guilt; even if Maria’s unfortunate evening had been partially his doing, he certainly couldn’t be blamed for Armond’s actions. Was it anger? No, he was more than familiar with that burn, and he felt it, too, but this was different. Jealousy? He had nothing to be jealous of. Concern? She was far from vital to his plans, so losing her wouldn’t be that great a loss.

Or would it?

He hadn’t lied about why he kept her around. She was the best assistant he’d ever hired, and he rather enjoyed having her around. Her strong, assuring presence helped keep the chaos in the office at bay, and she was lovely to look at, too boot. On top of that, there was something that drew his attention; a fire that burned inside her, that determination to keep doing better, to prove herself and not allow anyone to hold her back. He’d seen it in her eyes when he first hired her, and it continued to burn brightly, even as her coworkers made snide comments. It was the reason he hadn’t taken offense when she’d rejected his offer of a romantic relationship, valuing her career over her personal feelings. How could he not admire a woman like that?

Tonight was the first time he’d seen that fire dim, and the idea of losing her felt akin to a defeat. He’d spent years wrapping her around his finger, and he’d be damned if all his hard work was for naught.

Robert pondered what to do throughout the night, abandoning his book for the sake of staring into the fire in quiet contemplation.

XXX

On Monday, Maria walked into the office to find her desk practically groaning under the weight of at least dozen bouquets of flowers. Glass vases were filled nearly to bursting with vibrant orchids, lilies, dahlias, and irises. Towering over it all, however, was a stunning crystal vase boasting a truly elaborate bouquet of roses, the red, orange, and deep pink blossoms the envy of any autumn sunset.

“What’s all this?” she asked, cautiously stroking the waxy petals of one rose. They were real, all right, and her practical mind told her they weren’t cheap.

Robert stood behind her, a contrite smile on his lips. “I wanted to apologize for Armond’s behavior. I know that it’s a bit much, but I realized I didn’t actually know what kind of flowers you liked, so I thought I’d cover my bases.”

“You didn’t have—”

“Yes, I did. I should never have set you two up. I admit, Armond had shown a few sexist tendencies in our youth, but I had assumed that he would have outgrown them by now. I was sadly mistaken, and you paid the price.”

She shook her head. “Sir, you can’t take the blame for your friend’s mistakes.”

He held up his hand. “I appreciate your kindness, but I won’t hear anymore. His behavior was inexcusable, and he has no right to treat any woman like that, much less one I hold in such high regard. I certainly won’t risk losing such a remarkable woman over a man whose idea of proper date behavior is acting like a horny ape.”

Sighing, Maria averted her eyes in shame. Had she been so over-dramatic that her boss thought he needed to shower her with gifts to keep her around? Did she seem so fickle? “You weren’t in danger of losing me, Robert. I’m simply aware that you’re an important man, and appearance is vital to maintaining that kind of power.”

He smiled, oddly proud of how she’d started to understand the finer points of the business world. “True, but a man in my position is naturally going to attract a few rumors, and why should the king concern himself with the opinions of pawns?”

“He doesn’t have to, because he has other pieces to protect him. A pawn like me has little use, and is easily sacrificed.” Her eyes took on a steely edge. “I believe in Templar Industries— _your_ —cause, and if you feel that I’m holding the company back, I wouldn’t wish to stand in your way.”

Taking her hand, he gazed into her eyes, admiring how the light made them appear almost platinum. “I know. However, I believe you’re selling yourself short. You have more fire and determination than anyone I’ve seen. Perhaps you are a pawn, but you’re one steadily making its way to the other side of the board. And you know what happens then, don’t you?”

She bit her lip, unsure if she really believed what he was saying. “It becomes a queen.”

“Exactly. I told you, women like you are rare, and if men like Armond Bouchart can’t appreciate you, then I find no benefit in associating with him. He had my friendship, but you have my trust. One day, I plan on changing the world, and you’re exactly who I want by my side.” He watched her eyes light up at his praise, and he pressed on. “You’re smart and capable, and I’ve been planning on giving you some greater responsibilities, as well as a pay increase to reflect them. In fact, why don’t we consider this little talk an early performance review? I’ll have the accountants put in for your pay raise by the end of the day.”

The English beauty’s jaw dropped. “Sir, you don’t need to do that!”

The Frenchman gently cupped her chin. “I want to, because you’ve earned it. Maria, if it’s not too presumptuous, I don’t see you as a pawn. You’re an uncut diamond: hard, shining, and clearly valuable, yet still in need of some shaping and polish to reach her full potential. When that happens, I want to be there to watch you shine brilliantly.”

“Really?” she asked breathily, pale cheeks faintly pink, eyes sparkling with what appeared to be tears of joy.

“Of course. Bouchart and others can say what they want, but I know you; you’ll endure, with your head held high, and show them all what Maria Thorpe is made of.”

The smile she gave him, so open and unguarded, was both incredibly beautiful and somewhat alarming. He knew most people didn’t hold their cards as closely to their chests as he did, but to see such an exposed side to his proud assistant was…oddly satisfying. Like she’d wrapped his hand around her throat, trusting him not to squeeze her fragile windpipe. Not the smartest move, but one that made it clear that she was _his_.

Yes, he’d only apologized to ensure he didn’t lose his loyal pawn, but even he had to admit that a single bouquet and a seemingly heartfelt apology would have been enough. There was just something about her that made him want to go that extra mile, and he found he meant every word of praise that left his lips. Perhaps it was the way she’d been willing to be sacrificed for him, or how she’d lash out at everyone but him. It was an intoxicating feeling, having that sort of power over such a fierce creature.

He’d been a fool, sending her on that date with Bouchart. Imagine if it had gone well; her loyalty might have been divided, and he couldn’t have that. Furthermore, he was beginning to realize that, though he’d willingly avoided getting into a relationship with Maria, the more he thought about his future, the more he imagined her at his side as he ruled the new world.

As he walked over to his desk, he chuckled at the sight of Maria happily sniffing an orange rose. He hadn’t chosen that color by mistake; orange roses signified passion and intense desire. Both things he’d realized over the weekend she inspired in abundance.

She really was an uncut diamond, and once Project Eden was ready, that rough gem could be properly shaped, polished, and placed in his crown for all to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awwww, Robert's not so bad, now is he? He's a sociopathic monster, but at least he's not a misogynist! (Yeah, I know, not helping, but Even Evil Has Standards, right?) I kind of wanted to show more of Robert and Maria's relationship, and perhaps in what little he had of a heart, there was something mildly akin to affection towards Maria. At least as close as a man like him could get.
> 
> I hate how in my head Robert sounds British to me, because he's French, damn it! I guess I watch too many movies where the bad guy has an English accent. Heck, even in media set in France, French accents tend to only belong to comedic characters (Lumiere in Beauty and the Beast, Thenardier in Les Mis, etc), so it just doesn't sound threatening or even respectable to me anymore. We need to change that.


	4. Christmas Cheer and Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malik's invited over to the mansion for Christmas, and finds Altair may have gone a little overboard with the holiday cheer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my headcannon that behind that serious Assassin shell, Altair is a total dork when exploring something new and is occasionally liable to go overboard, especially where Maria's involved. This is especially true in my modern AU.

When Malik was invited over to the mansion for Christmas, he’d only been mildly surprised. While he, Altair, and Kadar had never celebrated the holiday, he knew that Maria certainly had, and it was nice of his brother to want to make her feel at home during her first Christmas away from England. Not that Altair hadn’t offered to spend the holiday among the cozy hamlets of the English countryside, or perhaps the brilliant streets of New York City, but his girlfriend had pointed out that she’d be away on a work trip with Malik until the night before, and it would mean more for them to spend their first Christmas together at home.

Honestly, Malik knew Altair had been secretly relieved; the man hated the cold and would have been miserable, especially if it snowed.

So instead the couple had decided stay at the mansion and invite the members of their little brotherhood over for Christmas evening. Malik, however, they insisted was family and they wanted over that morning. Since he didn’t have anything better to do and wouldn’t pass up on the chance to tease the new couple, he threw on a nice outfit, grabbed the gifts he’d gotten for everyone, and headed over to his old home around 10am.

When he drove up, he hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary beyond some wicker reindeer and unlit lights. However, he should have suspected something was off when a beaming servant with tinsel in her hair answered the door. The moment he entered the house, he dropped the bag of presents out of shock.

The foyer looked like Hallmark had vomited all over it. There were string lights and evergreen garlands hanging wrapped around the banisters and columns. More lights hung from the ceiling, and Swarovski crystal icicles dangled from the chandeliers. Potted poinsettias were placed in every corner and on every surface, as well as wreaths and holly branches shimmering with glitter and fake snow. Anything that could have a bright red bow and silver bells on it, did. He could hear Christmas music coming through hidden speakers; thankfully pretty, instrumental versions instead of the annoying songs he always heard on the radio while traveling abroad. At the center of it all stood an enormous pine tree, boughs heavy with red, white, gold, blue, and silver ornaments of all shapes and sizes, and topped with a brilliant star that Malik was certain was bigger than his head. Underneath were piles of brightly-wrapped presents, each neatly labeled; much to his surprise, aside from his, Altair, Maria, Rauf, and their friends’ names, he saw there was also a gift for each member of the staff.

“Ho ho ho!” someone called from his left.

“What the actual hell?” Malik exclaimed, jaw dropping. Rauf stood in the doorway, dressed in an elaborate Santa costume. The bodyguard had kept his beard its natural color, making him not completely look the part, but from the shoes to the hat to the white fur trim, he wouldn’t look out of place on a Middle-Eastern Coca-Cola bottle.

Altair appeared at the top of the stairs, grinning like a madman. He was thankfully dressed a handsome, dark blue suit, but any normalcy was thrown off by the pair of jingling reindeer antlers on his head. “Merry Christmas, brother!” he said, coming down and giving him a hug.

His business partner was too shocked to hug back, and was more than a little annoyed when one of the prongs from the antlers nearly poked him in the eye. “What is going on?”

Thankfully Maria arrived, looking stunning in a lovely green cocktail dress, though she seemed as confused by the madness as he did. “I have no idea. I came home from the airport last night and it was already like this.”

Altair gave him a blinding grin. “I wanted Maria’s first Christmas here to be perfect, so I decided that since she was away with you, I’d take the opportunity to decorate the mansion.” He spread his arms out proudly. “What do you think?”

Malik gave the antlers a glare. “I think you should take those ridiculous things off.”

“No, I shan’t. It’s Christmas!” he replied haughtily.

Maria shook her head, but couldn’t quite keep the fond smile off her lips. “I showed him a few of the Doctor Who Christmas episodes before I left. I think they struck a chord.”

“Or drove him mad.”

“It is a distinct possibility.”

Malik turned to Rauf, who looked rather jolly despite the heavy costume. “Why didn’t you stop him?”

He shrugged, an amused grin on his face. “He seemed to be enjoying himself, and the servants were having fun, too. He invited the whole staff to watch Christmas movies with him for ideas and everyone decorated together. It was nice, and everyone wanted Maria’s first Christmas here to be memorable.”

The woman in question gave a wry grin. “Oh, they’ve certainly accomplished that.”

“So he forced you to dress like Santa?” Malik asked.

“I didn’t force anything!” Altair insisted. “I was more than willing to do it myself; Rauf volunteered.”

“I did it in case anyone tried to attack you, sir. No one would expect Santa to be your bodyguard.”

“You did it because you wanted an excuse to invite women to sit on your lap!”

“Are you saying you weren’t planning the same thing with Maria?”

While the two argued, Malik pulled Maria aside, whispering, “You could have warned me about this.”

“And spoil the surprise? I wouldn’t dare,” she teased. “If I had to have a holiday-induced heart attack, so did you. Besides, this isn’t even the worst of it; the whole house is decorated. One of the maids told me certain rooms are inspired by different Christmas movies, including _Home Alone_ and _The Nightmare Before Christmas_.”

“Which ones?” he asked nervously. If Rauf had been in charge of the former, it was surely filled with dangerous traps.

“I’ll let you find out for yourself.” Glancing up, she rolled her eyes before pecking him gently on the cheek, much to his surprise. Following her gaze, he instantly recognized the plant hanging above them. “I will warn you of this; Altair may have single-handedly put mistletoe on the endangered species list. It’s everywhere, so stay vigilant, lest one of the maids decides to steal a kiss, to say nothing of Claudia.”

The expression on Malik’s face was somewhere between amused and leery. He never passed up on a kiss from a beautiful woman, whether heiress or servant, but Claudia and Aveline, despite being in happy relationships, were just as likely to use the little sprigs of leaves and berries to torment him. Ezio would happily kiss anyone he caught, man or woman, and Edward and Jacob could be quite affectionate while drunk. He’d definitely have to mind his step tonight.

He sighed, pinching his brow. “Why couldn’t you have been Jewish?”

“Are you kidding? Then we’d have at least eight nights of this madness. Hell, he probably would have put up a thirty-foot menorah instead of a tree!”

Before he could respond, Altair pulled his girlfriend into a long, deep kiss before ushering them all into the dining room. “Come; the kitchen has made an amazing Christmas brunch for everyone, and I want the whole household to enjoy. There’s eggnog, cider, and hot chocolate, too, and then we can open presents. I picked out everyone's gifts myself.”

With a chuckle, Maria gave him a shorter, affectionate peck before taking Malik’s forgotten presents, carefully placing them each under the tree, and allowing Rauf to escort her to the dining room. “At least the music’s nice,” she commented. “I like Christmas songs, but they can be grating after a while; the lyrics always end up stuck in my head.”

Rauf laughed as they walked off. “He originally had it playing all the classics, but after four hours of the same songs over and over, he was ready to smash the stereo. This was all any of us could tolerate.”

Standing alone in the foyer, the brothers both looked around the opulently decorated room. “So, seriously, what do you think?” Altair asked, suddenly less confident. “I know it’s a lot. More than a lot. I really just meant to put up a few decorations, but like Rauf said, everyone seemed to be having fun, and I didn’t want that to stop. We never had that as kids.”

Worrying his lip, Malik took another glance around the room. Yes, it was ridiculous and over the top, and he was tempted to tell him he’d gone too far, but the way he’d seemed so excited, plus how happy Rauf had looked, changed his mind. At least it was all fairly tasteful, with no animatronic elves or live reindeer, and he knew the intentions were good. If Altair and the staff were having fun, who was he to complain? He didn’t live there, and he wouldn’t have to worry about cleaning it all up.

Finally, he replied, “I think Al Mualim would be spinning in his grave if he had one.”

His brother grinned deviously, more than pleased with that answer. As children, they had been forbidden to take part in holiday festivities. It had been considered frivolous and a waste of time, to the point where they didn't even attend holiday parties hosted by business partners. It had gotten even worse after de Sable defected, as their mentor's bigotry towards the west had reached insane levels, to the point where the boys had openly dreaded December. Even after his death, Altair and Malik had never had a reason to celebrate Christmas or any other holiday, and as such had never bothered. Now, the idea that there was an Englishwoman living there, and his former pupil had decorated the house in such a traditionally western, jolly, ridiculous manner for her would have infuriated the old man. The image truly warmed the heart. “Indeed. And isn’t that what Christmas is all about?”

“Who knows? I just hope that hot chocolate comes with brandy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays, everyone! Whatever you celebrate, I hope this chapter made you laugh.


	5. Hamiltunes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After another wonderful night performing in "Hamilton," Aveline and Connor plan on having a night to themselves. Unfortunately, some uninvited guests show up. Singing ensues.

It had been a perfect night. Aveline had received a standing ovation for her performance of “[Satisfied](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=oqL7E2ZHsVc),” nothing had gone wrong during the play, and she’d even caught a glimpse of the usually stoic Connor smirking when the actor that played Charles Lee delivered the line “I’m a General! Wheeeee!” On top of that, she’d received numerous bouquets of flowers in her dressing room, with an especially large one coming from Ezio, Jacob, and Arno, who’d been in attendance.

Afterwards, she’d happily signed autographs, had a few drinks with her costars, and headed back to hers and Connor’s rented apartment. Much to her delight, the man had already drawn her a steaming bath, the tub near overflowing with fragrant bubbles and lit with flickering candles. After she’d enjoyed a long soak, her new husband had been waiting for her in the bedroom, eager to show just how “satisfied” he could make her.

She should have known something was bound to go wrong.

Just as he’d finally stripped her down to her underwear, the large man froze, cocking his head like a wolf alerted to danger.

Knowing better than to disregard his instincts, she whispered, “What is it?”

Quietly slipping off the bed, Connor listened for another moment, shoulders tense, listening for the slightest unwelcome sound. Aveline listened too, and after a moment, she could hear the faintest murmur of voices. The voices grew louder when a loud bang echoed through the apartment, the invaders apparently having knocked something over.

Instantly on edge, Connor grabbed his tomahawk, ready for battle. While their enemies had decreased in number over the past few years, they both knew better than to assume their lives were no longer in danger. Whether it be a racist fanatic eager to take down Connor, an obsessed fan of Aveline’s, or just an ordinary burglar, the couple was not immune to the more ordinary threats life could bring, though more than capable of dealing with anyone that came into their home.

Throwing on a robe, Aveline grabbed the machete she kept hidden beneath the bed. Like hell she’d hide behind her husband, even if the view of his bare back was spectacular.

As they approached the living room, the voices became much more discernable, and Connor straightened up, face lined with irritation. Abandoning stealth and storming into the room, he gave the men that had invaded his home a glare, even as Aveline stifled a giggle behind him, lowering her machete.

“Hello, people who do not live here,” he growled.

Ezio waved cheerily from where he was sitting unsteadily on the arm of the couch. “Hello!”

Jacob gave a grin. “Evening,” he slurred slightly, using the coffee table as a footrest. The stack of books that had originally occupied the spot were in a pile on the floor, apparently the source of the earlier disturbance.

Arno smiled pleasantly, clearly the soberest of the trio. “Hi. Wonderful performance tonight, Aveline. _Absolument fantastique_.”

“ _Vous êtes trop gentil, mon ami_ ,” she replied with a curtsy.

Connor crossed his arms, tomahawk still in hand. “What are you all doing here?”

“Can’t a few blokes stop by to congratulate Broadway’s latest sensation?”

“Only until a certain time of night, and not without calling first.” He glared at Ezio. “Or knocking. I gave you that key for emergencies.”

“It was an emergency!” the Italian insisted. “There was too much of a crowd after the show, so we never got to tell Aveline what a great job she did!”

“Yeah,” Jacob said, munching on a bag of Doritos. “Also, we were out of crisps.”

Clapping his hands, Ezio said enthusiastically, “Also-also, we came up with a song for Connor!”

“Yeah!” Jacob shouted, crumbs falling onto the couch. “We were truly inspired! [‘The Story of Tonight’](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x1lOCT3QDl0) was bloody brilliant! Wish we’d known it before the wedding; we could have sung it for you, Connor!”

“We’ve even been practicing!” Before anyone sober enough to remember what a horrible singer Ezio was could stop him, he started crowing, “I may not live to see our glory~”

“I may not live to see our glory~” Jacob joined in. Arno merely looked on, unable to keep a straight face at the others’ drunken antics.

“But I’ve seen wonders great and small~”

Jacob sang even louder, not caring if he woke the neighbors, “But I’ve seen wonders great and small~”

“Cause if the grizzly can get married~”

“If our dear Connor can get married~”

“There’s hope for our ass after all!” Ezio bellowed, falling over laughing.

Though Connor was clearly ready to tear his friends to shreds, Aveline patted his arm soothingly and gave them a wide smile. “ _Tres bien._ As a reward, how about I sing for you one of the songs that didn’t make it into the play?”

The drunken men hooted excitedly while Arno gave her a knowing smirk, quickly gathering up their coats. He knew their exit was imminent, and he had no desire to walk back to the hotel with their friends complaining about the cold.

Clearing her throat, she took a deep breath before starting to sing.

“Alexander…[Congratulations.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lQh-7-PNgoU)~  
You have invented a new kind of stupid.~  
A ‘damage you can never undo’ kind of stupid.~  
An ‘open all the cages in the zoo’ kind of stupid.~  
‘Truly, you didn't think this through?’ kind of stupid.~”

Taking that as his cue, the irritated Mohawk grabbed Ezio and Jacob by the back of their shirts, bodily pulling them out of the living room and shoving them out the door. Arno was afforded the dignity of getting up himself, kissing Aveline on the cheek as he passed.

“Sorry about them. They’d had a bit too much to drink and insisted that we give our congratulations tonight. I didn’t expect them to start singing, though.”

With an affectionate roll of her eyes, she waved off his apologies. She couldn’t blame him; most of the time, it was better to just let Ezio and Jacob do what they wanted and go along as damage control. Forbidding the two men just seemed to encourage them to find more outlandish ways to achieve their goals. Honestly, Aveline was just grateful that Arno had been sober enough to babysit them this time.

Once the Frenchman was clear, Connor bolted the door. “From now on, I’m setting bear traps by the door at night,” he growled.

Lightly kissing his shoulder, Aveline chuckled huskily. “Might not be the worst idea. Now, let’s why don’t we pick up where we left off?”

He didn’t smile, but the way his eyes twinkled told her he was more than happy to oblige. Lifting her into his arms, he nuzzled her neck. “I’m lucky to have you. I almost murdered our friends tonight.”

“Was that before or after the singing?”

“Yes.”

Laughing, she decided to clense his ears with a line for her earlier song. “So never lose sight of the fact that you have been blessed with the best wife.~” Playfully, she kissed his nose. “Congratulations.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It disappoints me greatly that there aren't more Assassin's Creed III/Hamilton mash-ups. Even on Tumblr. What gives, people?


	6. Bed Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desmond's recovering in bed after the events of The Dubai Seduction, and the rest of his team comes to visit.

It had been a week since Ezio’s birthday party and Robert de Sable’s death, and Desmond had spent all that time recovering from his injuries. Once an actual doctor had gotten a look at him, it was determined that in the fourteen hours since he’d been kidnapped, he’d acquired several cracked ribs, cuts that needed stitching, and bruises the size of grapefruits. Add in the dehydration and possible concussion, and the doctors had nearly insisted that he stay in the hospital.

Luckily, Altair had stepped in, asserting that his personal physician could take care of him at the mansion. The doctors had protested until the billionaire had pointed out that there were still at least a dozen of Ezio’s party guests that needed their care more than Desmond, and that he was family, so he had the right to bring him home.

That’s how the bartender-turned-corporate-spy had found himself staying in a room bigger than his apartment, laying in a king-sized bed with sheets that probably cost more than his car, getting waited on hand and foot by servants. At first, it was neat; he sure as hell never got that kind of attention growing up, not even when he was sick. The staff was happy to bring him any kind of food he wanted, from pizza to crepes, and his fluency in Arabic made getting his order across super easy. There was a flat-screen TV the size of a kiddie pool, Malik had brought him books from the library, and Altair had offered to buy a PlayStation 4 or Xbox One for his room if he wanted.

The problem was that the novelty of being pampered tends to wear off when you’re stuck in the same room for days at a time without a lot of company. He’d watched TV, read a few books, given Altair a detailed report on what had happened before, during, and after he’d been kidnapped, and eaten all the fancy junk food he could stand. He was running out of things to do, getting stir-crazy from being stuck in bed. Altair, Maria, and a few of the others tried to keep him company, but given how they were dealing with the fallout of two kidnappings, an assault on the house, proving de Sable’s connection to North Korea, Maria’s injuries, and all the other crap brought on from the Frenchman, he didn’t hold it against them for not visiting more than a couple minutes. The servants were nice enough to exchange small talk, but he could tell they were intimidated by the fact that he was their boss’ long-lost cousin, plus they had their own things to do.

In other words, Desmond was bored, lonely, and desperate for some company.

It was a little past eleven in the morning on Saturday when Maria poked her head into his room. She gave a disapproving frown at the empty box and mess of crumbs on the bed. “Desmond, did you eat all those donuts?” Malik had brought them in for him to snack on only an hour ago, and the idea that he’d devoured all twelve of them made her own stomach hurt.

“No.”

“I can see the white powder on the sheets.”

“…That’s cocaine.”

Sighing, Maria walked over and lightly slapped him upside the head in annoyance.

“Hey! Injured victim here!”

“Oh hush! If you can take a rifle to the head, you can handle a little slap. More importantly, some people who claim to be your friends are here to see you.”

“‘Claim to be?’”

She shrugged. “Well, the British one has done nothing but insult you since they got here, so you tell me.”

Desmond sighed, rubbing his head. “Yeah, send them in. They’re the crew that was helping me with Altair’s undercover job.”

“Does that make them your friends?”

“Close enough, I guess. Shaun’s an ass, but Rebecca’s alright.”

“What about the blonde girl? Lucy, I think?”

Maria had to smirk at the light blush that dusted his cheeks. “She’s alright, too. Just send them in, will ya? I’m going stir-crazy in here!”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t eat so many donuts. Otherwise, the only way you’re getting out is by rolling.”

She was out the door before he could retort, but he did make an effort to brush away the crumbs and shove the empty box under the bed. No need to give Shaun more ammo for the inevitable rapid-fire mocking.

A few minutes later, there was a light knock on the door before the trio strolled into the room.

“Desmond! We’re so glad you’re okay!” Rebecca shouted, nearly pouncing onto the bed to give him a hug.

“I’d be more okay if you weren’t crushing my ribs,” he wheezed. He knew from experience that cracked ribs could take up to six weeks to heal, and he didn’t need the hacker setting him back further.

She pulled away, contrite. “Right. Sorry about that.”

Catching his breath, he gave her a crooked smile, ignoring the sting of the still-healing cut across his lips. “Eh, no big. Surprised it took you this long to come visit, though.”

“Well, considering the mess you left for us to clean up in London, you’re lucky we bothered to come visit at all,” Shaun huffed, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed irritably.

Desmond rolled his eyes in response. Typical Shaun, blaming him for his own kidnapping.

Lucy took a seat on the edge of the mattress, and Desmond couldn’t help but wish the bed was smaller so she’d be closer. “Ignore him. We came as soon as we could. Your cousin was even nice enough to send his private jet.”

The Brit scoffed, looking around the opulent guest room. “Yes, he sure does love showing off his wealth.”

Eyes narrowing, Desmond just barely bit back a response. Yeah, Altair probably over-did it with the private jet, but it was doubtful he sent it to show off. In his mind, he probably felt it was easier for them to take his plane than for them to get economy tickets to Dubai, since they wouldn’t have to deal with security or missed flights or gate changes. And was he really going to complain about getting to ride in a private jet without being handcuffed and beaten?

Lucy seemed to agree with him. “Will you stop? If you’re so against a free plane ride, you can buy your own ticket home.”

“Yeah, Shaun,” Rebecca said with a glare. “Considering all the shit he’s trying to take care of, we’re lucky he even remembered us.”

“Yes, I suppose it is easy to forget about the little people who worked their asses off to get him the information he needed to bring Templar Industries down,” Shaun sneered. “We should all be so grateful he bothered to acknowledge our existence and grace us with his presence.”

“Shut. Up,” Desmond growled between clenched teeth. Yeah, Altair could be an arrogant ass, especially in the beginning when he’d barely bothered to remember their names. It was pretty much agreed upon that he only acknowledged them because Desmond was his cousin, and even him he kept at arm’s length. It had been rough on all of them, but the job paid well, and it’s not like they had much of a life to go back to.

Once they’d taken on the Templar Industries job, though, and especially since Clay’s death, Altair had been a hell of a lot nicer to all of them. He’d clearly valued their sacrifices, and even if he was still figuring out how to be a genuinely decent human being, he’d been trying.

Frowning, Lucy turned back to Desmond. Seeing his growing agitation, she rubbed his calf soothingly. “I’m sorry about him. We’re all tired and stressed. It’s been a long week, and with you being kidnapped…”

“I am so, so sorry we couldn’t track you,” Rebecca cut in sadly, dropping her head in shame.

“Well, we wouldn’t have had a problem tracking him if he’d bothered to turn his phone on,” Shaun groused.

Fists clenching, nails digging into the expensive sheets, Desmond shot him a heated glare. “Oh, right, because de Sable would totally be dumb enough to let his hostage keep his phone,” he bit out sarcastically.

“He was dumb enough to let you keep your tongue.”

“Go fuck yourself, Shaun!” he shouted. He tried to jump out of bed to sock him, but a sharp stab of pain reminded him that there was a reason he was stuck in bed, so he irritably forced himself to lay back against the plush pillows.

Despite the American’s injured state, Lucy quickly jumped off the bed to stand between them. Snarking came as naturally as breathing for the two men, but any idiot could tell this wasn’t their typical banter. “Guys, drop it. There’s no point arguing about the past.”

“Like hell there isn’t! If Shaun wants to bitch at me for getting kidnapped, maybe he should be the one actually stepping into the lion’s den next time!”

“Maybe I should! Clearly, our next job is going to require someone with brains!”

“Your next job,” Desmond sneered. “Altair’s promised me a position at Creed International, remember?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” he snarled. “Nepotism at its finest. Try not to forget about us little people while you’re making the big bucks at a job you could never have gotten yourself.”

“Both of you, stop it!” Rebecca snapped. She turned to Desmond. “You’ve got every right to be mad, Des, but take it easy. Shaun’s just acting like this because he was worried sick.”

“I was worried about the integrity of the mission, not this dolt,” the Brit insisted.

“So I completely imagined you muttering about not letting him end up like Clay?”

Though he looked away haughtily, Desmond could see the unease that lined his face, not to mention the dark circles behind his glasses. His own anger deflated slightly. Shaun always acted like he was better than everyone, and no one would have blamed him if he’d chosen to bail on the mission, especially after Clay’s death. But the Brit never even considered leaving the team, sticking it out no matter how dangerous or illegal things got.

His words struck another chord with him, too. What were the others going to do now? Was Altair still going to keep them on as corporate spies, or were they basically going to be let go? He’d been so focused on getting the job done and his own future, he hadn’t considered he might be leaving his team behind. Shame made his stomach churn uneasily. Shaun was an ass, but he was probably more qualified for a job at Creed International than he was. Rebecca was crazy-smart with an affinity for machines, and Lucy had been well on her way to a nursing degree before she’d abandoned her aspirations for the greater good.

All Desmond had going for him was a weird affinity for languages, three years bartending experience, and family connections. Everything else he could put on a resume was probably illegal.

Sensing things had calmed down, Lucy again sat on the bed, this time by his knee, much to Desmond’s secret delight. “So, how are you feeling?”

“I didn’t listen to the parental advisory warning on the ‘American Idiot’ CD and now I’m gay and hate the government,” he joked weakly, trying to hide his guilt. “Oh, and my ribs hurt like a bitch.”

“I’m sorry it took us so long to tell Altair.”

“We were hoping you’d just gone out drinking or something,” Rebecca added. “You know, a celebratory bender in honor of taking down that French scumbag.”

“You really think I’d do something so stupid without calling you guys first?”

“No,” Lucy said, shaking her head sadly, “but we kind of hoped. It would have been better than you being kidnapped. Or worse, killed.”

Desmond sighed, patting her shoulder awkwardly. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t want to assume the worst and find out you’d made Altair worry for nothing. I get that. And it turned out alright; he and Maria were able to save my sorry ass.”

From his place against the wall, Shaun remained silent, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “It should have been us, though,” he muttered eventually. “We should have realized something was wrong sooner and tried to find you. If we’d just used our damn heads, we could have stopped de Sable before he even left the country.”

“Shaun,” Rebecca said hesitantly, “There was no way we could have realized in time. Desmond’s shift—”

“We all knew he planned on getting the hell out of there the second Maria’s desk was empty!” Shaun snapped. “He would have been there for an hour, tops. We lost how much time, assuming Desmond was being the good little janitor and finishing his work for the day? I should have called Altair the second we realized something wasn’t right.” Fingers buried themselves into short, blonde strands, tugging in frustration. “I should have fucking swallowed my pride and asked him for help instead of hoping Desmond was just being an irresponsible fool.”

Everyone stared at Shaun in stunned silence. It was almost unheard of for the man to admit fault, especially to Desmond.

“Look, you were just playing it safe,” the American finally said. “Altair had enough on his mind with King and the party. Worrying about me would have ruined all of that.”

Shaun pulled off his glasses, covering his eyes with one trembling hand. “If I’d just made a call, he’d have known de Sable was coming. Maybe people at the party wouldn’t have been hurt.”

“Or he would have mobilized an army and blown the whole thing wide open, possibly starting a war with North Korea,” Rebecca pointed out. “Guy’s kind of extra, if you haven’t noticed.”

Despondent, Shaun shook his head. “We shouldn’t have needed your cousin and his girlfriend to clean up our mess. We’re a team; we should have been looking out for you. After Clay, we should have known—”

“Clay knew the risks, and so did I,” Desmond insisted. Feeling sorry for the Brit, he gave a nonchalant shrug, even if the act did make his ribs ache. “Hindsight’s a bitch. If it makes you feel better, if I hadn’t been kidnapped, Maria might not have gotten off that plane in time to save Altair during the fight. See? Silver lining.”

“Please, that woman could have saved herself fine,” Rebecca insisted.

“You’ve ruined my attempt to be nice to Shaun,” Desmond deadpanned. “It was only ever going to happen once, and now it’s ruined. Thanks, Becca.”

“Yeah, thanks, Rebecca,” Shaun echoed, a slight smile on his face. He was still tense, but getting the guilt off his chest had clearly been good for him.

With a relieved sigh, Lucy patted Desmond’s knee. “We’re glad you’re okay. Try not to forget about us while you’re sitting behind your fancy new desk.”

His brow furrowed. “What are you guys going to do?”

“Honestly? No clue,” Rebecca said. “It’s not like we can put our work for your cousin on our resumes. People tend to shy away from hiring corporate sabotagers.”

“Why not get a job at Creed International?” he asked. “Hell, Malik could probably find some openings for you, and it’s not like you’ll need to do an interview. Or da Vinci Tech. Leo always seemed to like you, Becca. Not often he meets someone who’s as big a nerd as him.”

“Not all of us can get by on family ties, Desmond,” Shaun said wryly.

“Dude, we’ve been working for Altair and Malik for close to six years. Leo’s been supplying us tech for five. Ezio’s basically the reason I had to quit being a bartender and Lucy couldn’t finish her degree. We’ve lied, stolen, and killed for their cause. Come on, we’ve done so many illegal things on their dime, they owe you all an internship, at least.”

Lucy seemed unsure. “I don’t want to beg your cousin for a job.”

“I’ll do it for you, then. I’ve got no shame. Pretty sure if I bring it up to Maria, she’ll work her crazy Altair-controlling magic and you’ll all have a job by the end of the day.”

“No shame is right,” Rebecca laughed, wiping the corner of his mouth with her thumb. “Either you’ve been doing cocaine, or there are donuts around here you’re not telling us about.”

“More likely he ate them all,” Shaun quipped with a grin.

“Don’t suppose you get room service in here?” Rebecca winked.

“Oh, hell yeah. What do you want for lunch? I’ll give the kitchen a call and tell them to make whatever you want.” Grabbing a notebook, he handed it to the brunette. “Write down what you want, and I’ll translate. Feel free to go nuts, too; these guys could use a challenge.”

“Ah, now I remember why we keep you around,” she said, snatching up the paper and heading over to Shaun, ready for their age-old debate of what can and cannot go on pizza.

“How much longer are you going to be here?” Lucy asked, taking Rebecca’s vacant spot next to him.

Healing lip twisted in thought, he replied, “The doctors want me to take it easy for at least another week or two. After that, Altair said I can start working and he’ll help me find my own place in Dubai.” He gave a small frown. “How long are you going to be around for?”

“Guess it depends on what jobs open up,” she said with a smile. “You looking for a roommate? I can earn my keep as a stay-at-home nurse while you recover.”

An image of Lucy in a sexy nurse’s costume popped into his head before he shook it away. “I’m sure you’re more than qualified. I warn you, the job involves extensive binge-watching of _X-Files_ reruns while eating ice cream. Think you can handle it?”

She grinned, blue eyes bright with humor. “Sounds tough, but I think I can manage.” Her eyes became softer as she whispered, “I’m glad you’re ok. You really had me worried.”

He couldn’t quite keep the blush off his tan cheeks. “Sorry to worry you. I promise, no more dangerous jobs.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Reaching out, she gently cupped his chin. “Not going to lie, the scar’s growing on me.”

“Gives me a sexy and mysterious edge, does it?” he joked.

“Maybe a little. Will my nursing job involve me kissing it better?”

He swallowed. “Do you want it to?”

Ever so slightly, she leaned forward, lips inches away from his. “It would give me an excuse.”

The moment was ruined as the other half of the team’s argument grew more heated.

“Rebecca, I don’t care if it’s fancy-people food, fish eggs do not belong on a pizza!”

“People put anchovies on pizza, why can’t I try caviar?”

“You can try caviar if you want, but you’re not contaminating my pizza with it!”

Shaking her head with amusement, Lucy dropped her hand to the bed. “Admit it, you never would have let us disappear from your life.”

Desmond chuckled faintly, lightly covering her palm with his, stroking the soft skin. “You got me. I’ll talk to Altair tonight. Pretty sure he’ll be open to it. After all, why break up a winning team?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of Lucy/Desmond for you shippers out there. He needed a little love after what I put him through, to say nothing of his cannon fate.


	7. Malik's Advice to Claudia Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At fourteen, Claudia dreams of true love and finding Prince Charming. Upon meeting Malik for the first time and seeing her cousin again, she discovers these dreams might not be possible.  
> Part One of a multi-chapter vignette series set before The Dubai Seduction.

When Claudia was fourteen, her father, as a reward for doing so well in her math lessons, had taken her with him and Uncle Mario to Spain to be his escort to a charity gala. She’d felt so important, dressed up in a beautiful gown, shaking hands with her father’s clients and associates. There were even some young men about her age, and she’d blushed when they smiled and flirted with her until Papa shooed them off, joking about how none of them were worthy of his princess.

After a while, though, as every conversation inevitably turned to business and politics and other things the men said she’d never have to worry about, she’d gotten bored and wandered off. While Papa was busy, she was determined to snatch an hors-d'oeuvre and mingle with some more of the boys. Mama had told her she’d met her father at a party just like this one, and her head was filled with romantic scenarios of how she’d meet her own prince charming. With the almost fairytale feel of the night, from the soft music to the way the crystal chandeliers illuminated the ballroom, it was the perfect opportunity to find true love.

Weaving through the crowd in hopes of catching one of the roaming waiters, she nearly fell over as she slammed directly into what felt like a wall of silk over lean muscle. Before she could crash to the floor, though, a pair of strong arms caught her, pulling her upright.

“Watch where you’re going—” she started, before what felt like the very breath was stolen from her.

In front of her was one of the most handsome young men she’d ever seen. He had to be at least seventeen, with onyx eyes, hair like midnight silk, and skin that looked like it was made from pure caramel. Unlike the baby-faced _ragazzi_ that she’d been surrounded by, his facial features were severe and harsh, yet there was something almost royal about how his pointed chin tilted up and the way he looked down his straight nose at her. The navy blue suit was clearly expensive, tailored perfectly with nary a wrinkle, material shimmering faintly under the lights.

Critically, he raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “I was about to tell you the same thing,” he said in a thick, Middle-Eastern accent.

Immediately, Claudia decided this young man was the prince she was looking for. She’d poured over romance novels, fairytales, and rom-com movies, and she knew a meet-cute when she saw one. It was almost too perfect; the beautiful leading lady saved from falling by a gorgeous stranger, and two quickly falling in love. She couldn’t have planned it better.

Blushing prettily, she gave a coy smile. “I’m so sorry. Thank you for catching me. I suppose I should be more careful,” she said sweetly, fluttering her long eyelashes in a way that always made the _ragazzi_ back home pause.

The older teen didn’t seem affected. “That’s an understatement. Aren’t you a little young to be at one of these parties?”

Offended, her romantic aspirations dimmed. Yes, she was young, but there was no need to bring it up so rudely. Puffing up her chest, she replied with all the self-importance only a teenager could manage, “Clearly not, as I’m the personal guest of my father, Giovanni Auditore.”

Something flashed in his eyes, almost like worry, before vanishing like a doused flame. “Then you’d best get back to him, little girl. No need to ruin your family’s reputation by injuring fellow guests.”

Even more insulted, she was about to give a scathing reply when another young man approached them. “Malik, Al Mualim is looking—”

Claudia turned to the newcomer, and her jaw dropped. “Altair?!”

She hadn’t seen him since she was six, but there was no mistaking those golden eyes, and he’d taken on Uncle Umar’s stern features. He’d certainly grown up handsome, though such a thing was to be expected, given his genetics.

Altair seemed less pleased to see her, a frown marring his handsome face as he immediately tensed up. “Oh. Hello, Claudia.”

“I should have figured this was your cousin. She shares your arrogance,” the other boy sneered, though his shoulders were just as tense, dark eyes immediately flickering over the crowd as if expecting an attack.

Claudia placed her hands on her hips, giving him a glare. “I’m not arrogant; I’m self-assured. A woman must carry herself with confidence if she expects to make something of herself.”

“And what do you hope to make of yourself, besides a trophy wife?”

Annoyed as she was, she wasn’t quite ready to disregard the young man yet. Perhaps it was destiny of a different kind, that he be the catalyst that allowed her to reconnect with her long-lost cousin. His earlier rudeness meant nothing; how many stories started with the romantic leads disliking each other, forced to interact due to family or mutual friends? Surely, Altair would be thrilled to see her again, eager for them to make up for lost time. He and this fellow clearly knew each other, so perhaps they’d be forced to see each other more, bantering and getting caught in emotionally-charged situations, slowly bonding over mutual interests.

This in mind, she pushed away her instinct to insult him back. You catch more flies with honey, after all. “Many things, though before we exchange further pleasantries, I don’t believe I caught your name, _signore_.”

“That’s because I didn’t give it.”

Altair rolled his eyes. “Claudia Auditore, this is Malik al-Sayf. Malik, this is Claudia. There, you’re introduced, and now we can say goodbye.”

Shocked at his bluntness and apparent eagerness to leave, she grabbed his arm. “What? But we haven’t seen each other in years! What’s been going on, cousin? You never returned mine or Ezio’s letters, and Mama said you didn’t want to speak to us, but I didn’t believe her.” All thoughts of romance fled as she recalled the odd events after Uncle Umar’s funeral. Altair had been adopted by his father’s boss, much to Mama and Papa’s surprise. Apparently, the will had named the CEO of Creed International as the beneficiary of Umar Ibn-La’Ahad’s estate and worldly possessions, plus wishes for Altair to become the older man’s ward. None of this had been said to her outright, but overheard conversations and snooping done by her and Ezio had raised many questions, ones which had never been answered, no matter how many times they’d written to Altair for an explanation.

Malik said something to him in what she assumed was Arabic, and her cousin’s amber eyes narrowed as he pulled away. “I didn’t, and I don’t. Why would I want to keep in contact with people who will just get in my way?”

Warm brown eyes widened. “Get in your way? We’re family!”

“Just because we’re related doesn’t mean you matter.” His jaw seemed to clench, and she caught how his eyes flicked back and forth, surveying the room before turning the full force of that hawk-like stare back onto her. It was so intense, she couldn’t help but shrink back a bit. Uncle Umar had been known for that same look, but she’d never had it turned on her. Altair continued, “The only thing that matters is who you know and what you gain from them. Don’t you know what these parties are for?”

“Raising money for charity?” she said, unable to keep the uncertainty from her voice. Why was she uncertain, though? Father had explained the purpose of these parties, how the auctions and the banquet helped raise money. Not everyone had what they did, so people like the Auditores attended and bid on expensive art they didn’t need to encourage others of means to do the same, and all the money would be given to organizations that would help those less fortunate than them.

Rolling his eyes, Malik replied, “If this is all about charity, why waste so much money on fancy food and renting space? Most of the money is just making up for the costs of holding the party; people would do more good flinging cash into the street.”

“That’s not true!”

Altair shook his head in exasperation as if she were still six and wasn’t comprehending the rules of some simple game. “These parties are for networking, Claudia. Making connections. The charity aspect is just for appearances.” He crossed his arms, and Claudia was momentarily distracted by his left hand; his ring finger was missing. What had happened to Altair after Uncle Umar died? “If you’re here, that means your father’s looking to marry you off to one of his client’s sons. How many boys have you met tonight?”

“A…a few,” she mumbled, unable to meet his hard, critical eyes.

“And you’ll meet a few more, and more after that, all of them vying for your attention until you find the one you can gain the most from, whether it’s wealth, new clients, or something else. Then, you’ll be expected to settle down, look pretty, and pump out the next generation to continue the cycle.”

Shrinking back further at the harshness of his voice, she couldn’t quite keep tears from welling up behind her eyes. “You don’t mean that. Papa would never—”

Her cousin snorted, but she saw him flinch as something caught his eye across the room. Before she could question it, he pushed past her, attempting to leave.

“Wait!” she cried, grabbing his arm. “You can’t really believe that. How many times did we play house together? Marriage is about love and family!”

Shaking her off, he replied coldly, “This is why I didn’t bother writing back; even now, you’re just a stupid little girl.” Walking away, Altair called bluntly over his shoulder, “If family’s so important to you, put love out of your mind and start looking for a man that will benefit them.”

Malik turned to follow, but not before giving her a meaningful look. “Since you’re new to all this, let me give you some advice; the two most important things in this world are who you know and what people think of you. Clearly, you’re the type that wears her heart on her sleeve. Stop that. It makes you an easy target. Remember, also, that associating with the wrong person can ruin lives. Not just yours, but your family’s. You’re going to need to learn how to pick and choose which hearts to ensnare and which ones to break.”

“I don’t want to break anyone’s heart,” she said hoarsely, staring after her cousin. “I want true love.”

“You can’t always get what you want. We all make sacrifices, and people who let their feelings get in the way cause more harm than good.” An almost apologetic frown touched his lips, though it was gone in an instant. “Breaking hearts is a necessary evil. Hell, sometimes it’s for the person’s own good. This world isn’t for the weak and stupid, little girl. Embrace your role as an entrepreneur’s beautiful daughter and start thinking about what’s best for your family.”

Barely holding in a sob, Claudia ran off to the bathroom, still feeling the young man’s hard stare on her back. Curled up in a stall, she choked back tears, unwilling to let them have that victory.

Despite her indignant anger, something about Altair and Malik’s words rang true; the whole charity gala was a sham. She’d spend her life pursued by men who only cared about her looks and status, doing whatever it took to have her as a trophy wife.

That didn’t mean she had to give up on her dreams of true love, though. Surely, there was someone out there who would fall in love with her properly, who would see past the looks and status and still treat her like the princess her father always said she was. It happened for her parents; why not her?

In the meantime, though, if it helped Papa, she’d play along. She’d flirt and smile and be beguiling and enchanting, just like a true Auditore. There was plenty of time to find her Prince Charming, so what was the harm in dating a few sons of Papa’s clients to help out?

Checking her makeup in the mirror, she sauntered back to her father’s side, plastering a smile on her face when he introduced her to the son of another one of his clients, a _ragazzi_ a few years older than her. She immediately started flirting with him; the boy’s father was an important man, after all. Flirting always made her feel better anyway, so she twirled her hair, giggled at the flattery that was heaped on her, and accepted his offer of a dance.

So focused on playing her part, she didn’t even notice Giovanni’s concerned frown or the way the young man was holding her closer than was proper.

All she cared about was pushing away the lingering pain from her cousin’s cold eyes and Malik’s handsome sneer.


	8. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though Altair and Maria are happily together in the aftermath of The Dubai Seduction, that doesn't mean it's all sunshine and roses. Sometimes, in the dark of the night, all they can do is be there for each other in the midst of their inner turmoil.

Drenched in sweat and trembling, Maria awoke with a start. She could feel Altair’s arms wrap around her in an attempt to comfort her, but she pulled away, the gesture making her feel too constrained. Kicking off the Egyptian cotton sheets, she sat up, burying her face in her hands.

The warm, gentle sensation of her lover’s hand on her shoulder was a small relief. “Are you sure you don’t want to see a therapist about this?” Altair whispered compassionately.

She sighed. Logically, she knew he was right. It was obvious she had PTSD. In the light of day, she’d been able to hide it, but certain things she’d once enjoyed now set her off. Action movies had once been her favorite way to decompress after a long day but had been weeks since she’d been able to watch anything featuring terrorists, kidnapping, or extended gunfights. French accents, too, had become a trigger. Just that evening she’d found herself breaking into a cold sweat at dinner. Altair and Malik had taken her to a nice restaurant they knew, and a Frenchman and his family were at the table next to them. His voice had been nothing like Robert’s, yet somehow the familiar sounds had set her mind into a panic, forcing her lover and her friend to ask for the check before the first course had even arrived.

The nightmares were the worst, though. It wasn’t every night, but no matter how exhausted she’d been, her mind was overrun with images of Robert, practically able to feel his hands on her skin, his voice at her ear, the knife in her side. Every time, she’d end up staring down the barrel of his gun, certain that this was the end. It was a small mercy that she always managed to wake up before he could pull the trigger, but it didn’t keep her heart from racing or her flesh feeling clammy from cold sweat.

That didn’t make it easier to warm up to the idea of seeking psychological help. Her pride wouldn’t allow it. Not only that, but it was hard enough for her to open up to her friends about her weaknesses; how could she trust a stranger to understand, to not judge her for the choices she’d made which had led her to that point?

Sensing her hesitation, Altair dropped a brief kiss on the back of her neck. “No one will judge you, _habibti_ , and if they do, they’ll answer to me.”

“I know,” she muttered sourly. “It doesn’t make me feel any less pathetic.”

“You’re not pathetic,” he insisted. “You were kidnapped, stabbed, and nearly shot. You saw the man you once cared for die before your eyes not long after he threatened to kill me. Add in the near sexual assault…” Feeling her tense further, he trailed off, clearing his throat awkwardly. After a moment of deliberation, he murmured, “You’re not weak, Maria. Human minds are complex and delicate and need time to heal. There is no shame in seeking the aid of an expert.”

“I know,” she repeated. “I wish I could just forget.”

Suddenly, she was reminded of Robert’s last words, and her hands started trembling. _“You will remember me. Maria will certainly never forget me.”_

She’d rebuffed him at the time, full of righteous bravado, but now, in the stark light of the moon, it was clear that he’d gained at least one victory that day.

Feeling helpless, all Altair could think to do was massage her shoulders while whispering in her ear that he loved her, Robert was gone, and she was safe with him. A fresh wave of hatred for the Frenchman washed over him. He’d been determined to free Maria of de Sable’s machinations, yet even after his death, the toxicity of his influence was still poisoning her mind.

Like Maria, Altair hated being weak. He wanted to throttle her nightmares, to slit the throats of the demons that haunted her, but instead, all he could do was sit behind her and offer comfort while the woman he loved fought with her own mind.

After a while, when her trembling had finally begun to subside, he got up, tugging Maria to her feet. “You’re drenched in sweat. Perhaps a shower will help you sleep. I’m happy to wash your back.”

Sighing tiredly, she shook her head. “Altair, I’m in no mood for sex.”

He smiled softly. “Neither am I. Helping you wash is all I’m offering. You’re exhausted, and I don’t need you falling asleep in the shower and hitting your head.”

Smiling back shakily, she gave a slight nod. “Fine, but no funny business.”

Their footsteps barely even echoed in the massive bedchamber as they made their way to the on-suite bathroom. As Maria undressed, Altair adjusted the water until it was that steaming-hot temperature he knew she liked. Stepping out of his own pajama pants, he followed her into the glass chamber, grabbing a loofa and her favorite soap. There was more than enough room in the shower for the two of them, something they’d happily taken advantage of in the past, but now, his mind was solely focused on offering more banal comfort.

Hot droplets splattered against them both as he lathered up the sponge and scrubbed small circles on her back. No words were spoken, the only sound the gentle patter of water droplets hitting the tile and glass. When Maria’s back was completely covered by a fragrant lather, Altair moved to wash her arms, dodging her attempt to grab the loofa from his hands.

Maria snorted petulantly. “I can wash the rest myself.”

“I know, but I want to do this.” There was a moment of hesitation before he whispered, “You’re not the only one who feels weak, nor the only one who has bad dreams about that night.” He sighed, turning her so he could press his forehead against hers. “I need to feel useful, otherwise all I’ll be able to think about is how close I came to losing you. I need to remind myself that you’re here, safe with me. That I didn’t fail, that this isn’t some dream my mind has forged.”

Maria dug her fingers into his biceps, just hard enough to sting. “I’m here, Altair. You saved me.”

“You saved me that night, too. I’ve never felt so proud, but at the same time, it was a stark reminder that I’m not invincible. That I need to rely on other people. It’s humbling.”

“You could use a little humbling, once in a while,” she said, a slight smile on her lips. It dropped as she traced the dark circles under his eyes. “Nightmares aren’t the only thing keeping you awake, are they?”

“Sometimes I miss the days where the woman I slept with didn’t care enough to notice,” he muttered, even as he leaned into her touch. When she merely gave him her no-nonsense stare, he relented. “I’m worried about Connor and Yusuf.”

“They arrived in North Korea yesterday, right?” she asked, brow furrowing. With Dr. Garnier de Naplouse still at large, Project Eden was still a threat. The trouble was he was hidden away in the dangerous country, meaning they’d had no choice but to let Edward use his connections to smuggle them so they could destroy the doctor and his research. It was an extremely risky mission, and she completely understood why that might keep Altair up at night.

“Yes, and they’ll be under radio silence until every last scrap of Project Eden and its research is destroyed. But if something goes wrong…”

“They’ll be fine,” she murmured, lowering her hands and allowing him to continue washing her.

Almost mechanically, his hands moved across her body, leaving no inch of skin unwashed. “Will they? I want to believe that, but all I can think about is what will happen if they’re captured, how fucked the world will be if they don’t take out Garnier. How I’m not there to lead them, how I won’t know if anything’s happened until it’s too late. And that makes me think about what would have happened if I’d been too late to keep him from getting his hands on you.”

“You weren’t, he didn’t, and there’s only enough room in this shower for one person to worry themselves into an early grave, Mr. Ibn-La’Ahad,” she said sternly, poking him hard in the chest. “You keep this up, and you’ll be the one who needs therapy.”

“Maybe I do. Lord knows my childhood alone has caused me my share of issues. Perhaps we should both seek help.”

“Are you just saying that to make me feel better?”

“Depends. Is it working?”

“Not really, but I appreciate the effort.” Leaning forward, she gently pecked his lips before shutting off the water. “I’ll look into therapy if only to give you one less thing to worry about. Stop worrying about Connor and Yusef, too; they’re both smart, capable men, and I have no doubt they’ll be fine.”

He gave a small, crooked smile, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“No idea. Perhaps God sent me so he wouldn’t have to put up with your cheek sooner than necessary.”

That got a chuckle out of him as they finished drying off, sharing slow kisses as they redressed and returned to bed, wrapping their arms around each other in comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically the epilogue for The Dubai Seduction. You can see why I decided to end the story where I did instead, considering how I wanted to end it on a happier note. This one, while happy-ish, just didn't feel right to me.


	9. Jacob's Approval

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry has something very important to ask Jacob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last two chapters have been kind of depressing, so I figured I'd throw you all a bone and give you a happy one.

It wasn’t often Henry Green found himself uneasily shifting in his chair, but everything about the English pub put him on edge. The noisy patrons, the stench of beer drying on the floor, and Jacob’s stare from over the rim of his mug were not something he was unused to, having frequented such establishments with the man quite often, but tonight, he couldn’t bring himself to relax.

He had an important question to ask Jacob Frye. One that would change their relationship forever.

“Will you calm down, Greenie?” Jacob asked, knocking back a pint of some sort of dark ale. “You’re the one who insisted on meeting for a drink.”

“Yes, but I’d hoped for something a little quieter.”

“Then you should have been more specific. Now, what’s so bloody important that I couldn’t tell Evie about?” Giving him a critical once-over, from the tailored suit to the nervous fidgeting, a smirk spread across his face. “I'm guessing it has to do with marriage?”

“Is it that obvious?” he asked, pulling out the ring. It was beautiful, with an emerald set in a simple band of platinum, surrounded by tiny, brilliant diamonds. Clearly expensive, but not gaudy, something he knew his love would appreciate.

Jacob pressed his hand to his heart. “Oh, Greenie! You sure do know how to make a bloke feel special! But I could never betray my sister like this. I’m sorry, but our love is simply not meant to be.”

It took him a moment to register what had just come out of the Englishman’s mouth, but once it did, it took all of Henry’s considerable self-control not to reach across the table and smack him. “You know I’m not proposing to you. The ring wouldn’t even fit your pinkie.”

He gave his biggest shit-eating grin. “I know, but it’s fun to watch you fight the urge to hit me. Though, I’m assuming she’s turned you down, since otherwise that ring would be weighing down her finger and you wouldn’t be drinking with me.”

Henry glanced down at the ring in his hand. “I…haven’t actually asked her, yet.”

Jacob looked genuinely confused. “Then why’d you ask me to come out with you? I figured we were either celebrating or drinking away your sorrows.”

“Is it not traditional to ask the permission of a woman’s closest male relative?”

“Yeah, but Evie wouldn’t give a toss if I gave it to you or not. Hell, she’ll probably be insulted you thought you needed my approval.”

“She values your opinion, even if she doesn’t always show it. You’re her twin, her other half. I would ask for her hand whether I had your permission or not, but I think a part of her would be heartbroken if you didn’t approve of me.”

Jacob stared into his mug. “Me and my sister are as different as night and day. Everybody knows it. Most would probably be leery of any man I’d encourage her to marry. My own tastes have been…questionable in the past.”

“Yes, but your loyalty to your family has never once been in doubt. You’re brash, stubborn, and impulsive, but you’re also the first man in line to protect those who need it. You have a good heart, one you’ve handed over to those you thought deserved it. Even if you’ve been burned by this, you’ve learned from these mistakes, growing wiser and knowing how to spot those that might use another’s affections for their own gain.”

“You sure you aren’t proposing to me?” he quipped.

“I’m certain. I know you, Jacob; you want what’s best for your sister. If nothing else, your disapproval would make me take a good long look at myself and ask, ‘how can I be better for Evie?’ Besides, I want to know I meet your standards as a brother.”

“Brother?”

“Is that not what we’ll be when I marry your sister?”

A chuckle escaped him as he gulped down the rest of his drink. “Suppose we will. Trust me mate, you’re perfect the way you are. Now quit stalling and go ask her.”

Henry looked at his watch. “Yes, I should go. She should almost be at the antique shop by now.”

“See? You didn’t really need my approval. You just needed someone to waste time with while you were waiting.”

“Just because I didn’t need it didn’t mean I didn’t want it.” Getting up, he gave Jacob’s hand a firm shake. “You’re a better man than you think you are, Jacob. I was also wondering if you might be willing to stand up as my Best Man?”

 “You sure you want me? Surely there are better, more reliable blokes. Even if you think I’m a good man, that doesn’t mean I’m Best Man material.”

Henry gave a warm smile, the sort that Jacob knew made his usually hard-nosed sister’s heart flutter. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have in my corner.”

A small, flattered smile came to his lips. “Well, then I suppose all I can say is ‘yes.’ Now get going. I’ll be pretty useless as a Best Man if there’s no wedding, eh?”

“I suppose so.” Suddenly, a bout of nerves came over him, and he clutched his drink. “What if she says no?”

“She won’t, but knowing Evie, she’ll overthink things and start freaking out. She’s the sort to put practicality over emotion, even at the cost of her own happiness. She’ll analyze every aspect of your relationship, worrying about splitting time between here and India, whether she’ll be able to run the company if you have kids, the cost-benefit of a big wedding, all that other junk. If she starts arguing about any of that, just shove the ring on her finger and kiss her. That’ll shut her up.”

Henry couldn’t help but laugh softly. “I’ll keep that in mind. Goodnight, Jacob.”

Lifting his glass in a salute, he replied. “Be seeing you, Henry. Now quit stalling and go get her.”


	10. Malik's Advice to Claudia: Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claudia's been offered a modeling contract, but Duccio is less than supportive. Malik is once again there to offer some harsh truths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Malik's Advice series.

At seventeen, Claudia had grown into an absolutely stunning young woman and was considering a modeling career. It hadn’t been her first choice; she really wanted to get involved in business, perhaps launching her own company. The problem was, despite having a good head for numbers, she didn’t know where to start. She didn’t even know what kind of product she wanted to sell; she just wanted to help other women feel sexy and confident. So, she went to Mama for advice.

Maria Auditore was a formidable entrepreneur in her own right, having established a reputation for being able to sniff out talent and helping small companies make it big. Just recently she’d helped Ezio’s friend Leo start up his tech firm, and even after only a year, the young man’s genius inventions were already the talk of Italy, quickly making their way onto shelves overseas. Mama’s gamble on a bright young man was paying off in a big way.

As such, when Claudia voiced her aspirations, she’d been completely on board. The first step was making her known; Maria rightfully pointed out that most product lines sell on name recognition. Thus, she had suggested Claudia start with a modeling career to get her name out and establish a reputation as someone who knew beauty and confidence. She had readily agreed, and Maria had called in a favor with Leo, who was happy to use her in an advertisement for his new cell phone design. Along with that, Maria had even invited her to take part in an interview with her for a business magazine, where she got to talk about her aspirations to start a company dedicated to helping women feel more confident in themselves.

Much to everyone’s surprise, within a week of the magazine going public, she was contacted by Victoria’s Secret. They were impressed with her poise and beauty and wanted to hire her as soon as she was eighteen. They’d even been eager to help her get started with her business endeavors, as many other models had their own fashion and beauty lines. It all almost sounded too good to be true, so she’d tempered her excitement, waiting for Mama’s go-ahead. She was having their lawyers go over the contract they’d sent over, and she was going to call herself to ensure this wasn’t some prank or scam. Maria Auditore was not going to let her daughter be humiliated or taken advantage of.

It was at some socialite’s birthday party that Claudia received a call from Mama saying that the contract looked on the level, and if she wanted to be a Victoria’s Secret Angel, she had her blessing. It would all have to be rather hush-hush until she turned eighteen in a couple months, but she could tell a few select people that she’d gotten a modeling contract if she wanted. Smiling brilliantly, she practically skipped over to tell her boyfriend, Duccio da Luca.

Unfortunately, when she shared the good news, all she got was an argument.

“I thought I told you I didn’t want you modeling?” he snapped.

Taken aback, Claudia replied, “You never said that!”

“I said you didn’t need to work. It’s the man’s job to provide for his woman. I made it very clear that there was no need for you to get a job, especially modeling.”

“How was I supposed to get that? If you were against it, you should have just said so.”

“Maybe if you’d been less selfish and more considerate, you’d have picked up on it. Modeling is a disgrace to a woman of your stature, anyway. I won’t stand for it.”

It didn’t escape her that more than a few curious party-goers were listening in, so she tried to defuse the situation. “What’s wrong with being a model? It’s good, honest work, and it could lead to bigger and better things.”

“‘Bigger and better?’ What, am I not enough for you? I knew it; you’re just looking to cheat on me!”

“I would never cheat on you!” she cried, reaching for his hands. When he pulled away, she clenched her fists helplessly. “Duccio, _mio amore_ , I told you I want to start my own beauty brand, maybe even my own company. For that, I need to get my name out there.”

“Your name won’t be the only thing that’s out there! I don’t want you strutting about in your underwear for the world to see,” he shouted. “This whole idea is stupid!”

At the word “stupid,” Claudia snapped, “You sure don’t seem to have a problem staring at them yourself. Does that mean I’m not enough for you?”

Incensed, Duccio stormed off, claiming that he wasn’t interested in watching her make a fool of herself and that he’d come back when she was ready to talk things over like an adult. Just as she’d been ready to go after him, mainly to wring his neck for such a patronizing comment, she found herself swept onto the dancefloor by a painfully familiar Arab.

“A word of advice,” Malik began, dark eyes as critical as three years before. “If you’re going to fight with your boyfriend, have the decency to take it outside.”

She glared at him. “Like I care what you think.” The brush-off he and Altair had given her had not been forgotten, and she’d cursed Malik’s name more than a few times when she’d seen him and her cousin on the cover of celebrity magazines, naming them some of the most handsome eligible bachelors in the world.

“Clearly you do, considering how you took my advice from the last time we met.” His nose wrinkled in distaste. “Duccio da Luca, though? Surely you could find someone with better connections.”

“It’s not just about the connections. I love him,” she insisted. “He treats me like a princess.”

Malik gave a harsh laugh. “Is that what you tell the press or your family? Hopefully, you don’t believe it yourself.”

After her argument, she was certainly questioning her feelings, but she wasn’t going to let the arrogant Syrian know that. “Duccio is charming, handsome, and a wonderful boyfriend. I couldn’t ask for a better man,” she said haughtily.

He gave her an annoyed look. “Yet he seems to think little of your dreams or your personal integrity. Only a man with something to hide immediately accuses his woman of cheating.”

“Speaking from experience?” she countered. “I’m not happy with his response, but that doesn’t mean he’s cheating on me. He’s just passionate and protective. Once he’s cooled down, we’ll talk things over. Relationships are all about understanding and compromise.”

“I agree, which is why you need to forget about love and focus on finding a beneficial partner; relationships are easier when you treat them like business arrangements. It allows for more negotiation, and you don’t get your feelings hurt when they disapprove of your career choices.”

She scowled. “You think I should enter a loveless marriage just so I can attempt a business venture that might not even work out?”

“Better a loveless partnership than a life full of regrets.” Spinning her around, he pulled her close to whisper in her ear, “If he’s this jealous just thinking about you becoming a model, it’ll only get worse from here.”

Claudia tried to ignore the thrill his smooth voice sent down her spine. Damn it, she was supposed to hate this man; why did her body still react? Her love for Duccio should be enough to keep her mind from straying towards indecent thoughts for another man, shouldn’t it? “Is that why you’re dancing with me? To make him more jealous so he’ll dump me?”

“You’d be better off dumping him, so long as you don’t make a spectacle out of it. How you’re seen is all that matters in places like these,” he said matter-of-factly. “Don’t be stupid; your family is high-profile and old money. Everything you do is going to be watched and scrutinized by the media. By tomorrow morning, you can be sure your little tiff will make it into the society pages.”

Again, the word “stupid” cut her like a knife. Altair’s comments had never left her mind, and this hadn’t been the first time Duccio had called her that, though usually, it was in jest. He always commented how pretty girls don’t need to think, so why waste her time studying? “If reputation and appearance matter to you so much, why are you risking yours by dancing with me? Aren’t you worried the paparazzi will assume you’re my new fling?” she snapped.

He shrugged. “They’ll see me with a new woman on my arm by the end of the night and completely write me off. As for you, you’ll either make up with your boyfriend or end up dancing with at least a dozen other men. Either way, my reputation is safe.”

“Well, if you feel that way, why don’t I just find one of those dozen other men right now?” she said, attempting to pull away. Malik’s arms, however, were like steel bands reigning her in.

Whispering in her ear again, he said, “Stomping off in a huff will just make people speculate further. Finish the dance, smile, talk with me for another two minutes, and then you can flounce off to your next partner. If you plan to survive in this world, you can’t just act on your emotions. You should always have a plan.”

“I’m surviving fine. Despite what you think about Duccio, he’s been good to me, and his connections do benefit my family. I couldn’t ask for a better man.” She glanced away, suddenly embarrassed. Her boyfriend may not have been clear with his feelings about her career choice, but as his girlfriend, shouldn’t she have been able to pick up on them? Love was about being considerate of the other’s feelings and making them happy, after all. “Maybe what I feel isn’t the fairytale love I imagined, but I feel _something_ for him. After this dance, I will go and make up with him, whether you approve or not.”

Claudia glanced up when she felt his hand tense on her waist, and she was surprised to see anger line his face. “You would give up your modeling contract for him?”

A humiliated blush rose to her cheeks at how easily he’d guessed her intentions. “We make sacrifices for the ones we love.”

Even though his expression stayed the same, Claudia was close enough that she could clearly see the guilt flicker in his eyes. “That doesn’t mean you have to give up your dreams _and_ endure a loveless marriage. Dump Duccio and find a better partner. One secure enough in his masculinity that he can support your business endeavors.”

“Someone like you?” she said sarcastically.

That earned her a smirk, dark eyes gleaming like obsidian, which made her blush harder. God, he was handsome, with his voice a rich as espresso and lips that looked utterly kissable. He was certainly built, and her hands couldn’t quite keep themselves from squeezing his biceps, nor her eyes from appreciating the hard line of his jaw or the way a single strand of hair fell in front of his eyes.

Thankfully the song ended, and Malik escorted her over to a quiet corner of the room. “Perhaps we wouldn’t be the worst match. Why settle for a lesser man when I could give you everything you want? We’re both attractive, well-connected individuals, and what red-blooded male wouldn’t want a Victoria’s Secret Angel on his arm? Once you’re legal, I can see us both benefiting; you’d get to live your dream, and I’d get to bask in Altair’s frustration.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion. “Why would you want to piss off my cousin? Aren’t you friends?”

His smug expression darkened. “Hell no. He’s an arrogant, short-sighted fool whom for some reason my little brother practically worships. If anything, dating his baby cousin would be sweet revenge.”

“So you’re using me?!”

“Yes, but you’d get to use me, too.”

While she was certain he hadn’t meant them that way, his words caused her breath to catch. “I don’t want to use you.”

A devious glimmer in his dark eyes, he stepped close, leaning in so that their lips were barely an inch apart. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. That blush on your face says it all.”

A pleasant shiver went down her spine, much to her chagrin. He was right, and she hated that. It made her feel so guilty. Even if they had argued, she loved her boyfriend, and she shouldn’t be looking at another man. _Mio Dio_ , how could she criticize Duccio for eyeing up models when she was doing the same thing to a man she’d done nothing but argue with? Was he right to fear her straying? No, he didn’t; she was saving her virginity for him, for God’s sake! Malik was certainly attractive in the dark, exotic kind of way, but she’d make a promise to Duccio. How dare either man assume she could be swayed so easily?

That, and the thought that Malik would date her for the sake of pissing off her cousin, promptly broke the spell he had laid on her. Backing away, she sneered, “You’re right; I have thought about it. I’ve also thought about slapping you and telling you just where you can stick your advice.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “There’s that temper again. You really are Altair’s cousin.”

“Another reason we shouldn’t date, then, since you hate him so much.”

“I don’t have to like you to date you. But, you have a point.” Seeing Duccio making a beeline towards them, Malik gave her a meaningful stare. “Since you haven’t told me where to stick my advice yet, here’s some more; if you’re going to make a sacrifice, make it for someone who deserves it. At this rate, you’ll either lose him or the contract.”

“Why can’t I have both?”

“With a man that insecure, it will take nothing short of a miracle. Are you willing to abandon your dreams for someone who baselessly accuses you of cheating? Or are you strong enough to fight for what you want, even if it means losing what you have?”

“Claudia!” Duccio said loudly, barely even coming to a stop before pulling her towards him. “I saw you were being harassed by this _stronzo_.” He glared at Malik. “This one is taken, so go find some other woman to bother.”

“Is she? I could have sworn I saw you storm off like a child earlier,” the Syrian said, crossing his arms. “I believe you were arguing about something relating to her career aspirations?”

Duccio flushed with embarrassment. “That’s none of your business!”

“When you make a scene in the middle of the party, it becomes everyone’s business. Did you really think you were going to look like the mature one after throwing a tantrum like that?”

“I just don’t want her degrading herself!” Duccio insisted.

“The only one who’s degrading her is you.” Malik smirked, a dangerous glint in his eye. “Don’t worry, you’ll get your turn once the paparazzi gets wind of the fact that you’re so insecure that you’d order your own girlfriend to give up her dreams and prevented her from becoming the next Heidi Klum. I’m sure the speculation over what kind of relationship you two must have will be most enjoyable to read on the toilet. Especially if they hear you’ve been baselessly accusing her of cheating.”

Their argument was drawing a crowd, much to Claudia’s irritation. Hadn’t Malik berated her for doing the same? Even more frustrating was that while the loyal girlfriend part of her wanted to yell at him for insulting her boyfriend, his points were too good to counter. The press would utterly crucify Duccio if they got wind of his tantrum. With the crowd that was gathering, they’d have enough eyewitness accounts to fill gossip magazines for months. If he didn’t play this right, his reputation would be in tatters, if he were lucky.

The Italian man swallowed nervously. “I don’t care what you think!”

Malik rolled his eyes. “Of course you don’t. That’s why you’re getting all out of sorts over me dancing with your girlfriend. Tell me, what makes you believe she’d cheat on you? Is it because you know she can do better, or are you trying to cover up your own indiscretions?”

“That’s enough!” Claudia snapped. She glared at the Syrian. “Now you’re the one throwing around baseless accusations. I won’t stand for you questioning my boyfriend’s honor. He may have reacted badly, but I know he loves me and is enough of a man to not feel threatened by my career choices, or by the likes of you.”

Malik scowled, but the gleam in his eyes was almost approving. She suddenly got the impression that she’d inadvertently gone along with a plan of some kind. “Is he?”

“Of course he is!” She turned to look at Duccio. “Right?”

He awkwardly cleared his throat, glancing at the crowd. “Of course. I may have overreacted, but if Claudia wishes to be a model, I’d be honored to have her on my arm.”

She sighed in relief. Good. Duccio knew when to concede. There would likely still be gossip, but the damage done would be minimal, and Ezio wouldn’t be showing up at his door to beat him bloody.

Rolling his eyes again, Malik said, “Fine. I wash my hands of this drama. I have better things to do than talk to fools.” He gave Claudia a meaningful smirk, which earned him a glare. “Just remember my offer is on the table, should you ever come to your senses.”

As he walked away, Duccio turned to Claudia, concern lining his face. “What offer?”

Prying her eyes away from Malik’s retreating back, she said, “Nothing you need to worry about. He’s just a busy-body who can’t stand when he’s wrong. Now, I think we should go outside and talk. I’m taking the contract, but I’m willing to hear your concerns, so long as you’re actually clear about them and not just voicing vague disapproval.”

He gave her an appraising look before grinning, pulling her close. “You know, now that I think about it, and maybe this modeling thing isn’t such a bad idea. You’ll get to travel the world, which will free up some time for me. There have been some…friends I’ve been meeting to call on.”

Leading him away from the crowd, she gave a small frown. “I didn’t realize I was keeping you from your friends. I’m so sorry.”

He patted her hand. “It’s alright, _mio amore_. I shouldn’t have been so angry. I sometimes forget how young you are and expect too much from you. The only thing that matters is that I am your one and only.”

“Do you promise the same?” she asked with a smile.

In lieu of an answer, Duccio pulled her in for a kiss. As his tongue prodded at her lips, her mind guiltily wandered to Malik and the thrill she’d gotten when he’d leaned in, mouth a mere inch from hers. She didn’t get the same sensation from Duccio, but she brushed away that thought; she loved her boyfriend, and when she was ready, she’d give him her virginity. That sent a thrill down her spine, and she smiled, eagerly returning the kiss.

It wasn’t until much later that it dawned on her that she’d never once told Malik she’d be signing on with Victoria’s Secret. So, how did he know?


	11. The Photo Shoot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maria and Malik may have agreed to pose for the cover of Claudia's book, but Altair is less than pleased.

Stage lights illuminated an elaborate Arabian set, decorated with softly smoking incense lamps, silk curtains, gold furniture, and an enormous bed. A handsome Middle-Eastern man, dressed in all the finery that befitted a sultan, embraced a beautiful Englishwoman, her plain white blouse hanging open to expose the naughty corset that lay beneath. Half-reclined on the bed, her head was thrown back in a silent plea as the sultan’s lips loomed above her collarbone, teasing her with just the touch of his hot breath. Their palpable desire would send readers into a frenzy, enticing them to buy the reprint of Rosa Amore’s famous novel, _Slave to the Sultan’s Lust_.

At least, that’s what the scene was supposed to look like. It had all been perfectly planned out and Claudia had been eager shoot the new cover, but instead, she was close to pulling her hair out in frustration. Her stars, such as they were, weren’t getting into the mood, and it showed. They were in the correct positions, but their body language was stiff, conveying more discomfort than desire.

“ _Dio mio_ , would you both loosen up?” she cried in exasperation. “You’re supposed to be a couple finally succumbing to their repressed desires, not like a pair of hostages performing amateur porn with a firing squad pointed at them!”

Maria had the decency to look apologetic, but Malik merely sneered at the Italian beauty, “Claudia, how am I supposed to look like I’m ‘in the mood’ when I’ve got Altair trying to glare me to death just offstage?”

The Syrian billionaire glowered at his best friend from the corner of the room. “I’m doing no such thing.”

“Yes, you are! I can see you out of the corner of my eye, Novice!” he snapped, getting up from his position on the bed. Meanwhile, Maria sat up, adjusting the corset so that her breasts wouldn’t slip out and show Malik, Claudia, or the cameraman anything that would surely rile Altair up further.

“You’re imagining things. I think the problem is that you unconsciously know you can’t handle a woman like Maria. Maybe we should find you a new partner.”

“Are you kidding me?!” Claudia practically shrieked. “Maria is perfect for this role! Besides, I’m working on a deadline as it is since I had to accommodate their schedules. I don’t have time to find a new model.”

Altair shrugged. “Then you take her place.”

Malik scoffed. “I’m quite certain you expressly forbade me from dating your cousin, Novice.”

“It won’t be dating, it’ll just be posing.”

“Then what’s the problem with me just ‘posing’ with Maria?”

“I’m not the one with the problem, Malik. You’re the one having performance issues.”

Narrowing his eyes, both at Altair’s stubbornness and insult, Malik turned back to Maria and practically pounced on her, burying his head against her throat as he wrapped his sole arm around her lower back, situating himself between her thighs. Her surprised yelp as she was knocked flat onto the mattress was cut off when she heard him whisper, “Play along.” Realizing what he was getting at, she let out a loud moan, burying her hands in Malik’s black hair and wrapping one of her legs around his waist. At Altair’s audible growl, they both looked up with a smirk. “As you can see, I’m not having 'performance issues.' You’re just being a jealous fool.”

“I’m not jealous,” he snarled, fists clenching. “I’m just not willing to let you take advantage of the situation to grope my girlfriend.”

Two sets of eyes glared at the man, utterly offended. “Do you really think Malik would do anything untoward with me?” Maria snapped.

“Seriously, Altair,” Claudia chimed in, “he’s your best friend! You’ve known each other for years!”

“Yes, we have, and many of those years we hated each other. I can distinctly remember several times where a woman would arrive at a party with one of us and leave with the other.”

“By Allah, we haven’t tried to steal each other’s dates in years!” Malik groused, removing himself from the Englishwoman’s embrace. “Besides, I like you and Maria together. Why would I jeopardize that?”

“Revenge is a dish best served cold, isn’t it?”

“You seriously think I still hold a grudge after everything we’ve been through together?” he shouted, storming over to his brother. “If you don’t respect my integrity, at least have more faith in Maria!”

“I have plenty of faith in Maria!”

“Then prove it by not glaring at me every time I so much as breathe in her direction! You're acting like a child!”

“Oh, so you’d be perfectly fine with me pawing at _your_ girlfriend?”

Awkwardly, the cameraman stood off to the side, glancing between Claudia, the two men ready to start a fight, and the half-dressed woman who was pulling them apart. “What should we do, boss?” he whispered. There was a reason models’ significant others were usually banned from the set, but Claudia had insisted things would be fine, as they all knew each other. Clearly, they had some issues that needed to be worked out.

Frustrated, Claudia called for a ten-minute break, whispering to Maria, “Get him sorted out, would you? It was hard enough to get Malik to agree to this, and I’m not letting my stupid cousin give him an excuse to weasel out of it.”

With a nod and a growl, Maria grabbed Altair’s arm, pulling him into a nearby dressing room. “What is your problem?” she whispered harshly. “Malik’s uncomfortable enough with his arm exposed, and here you are glaring holes in his back and accusing him of trying to take advantage of me!”

The Syrian had the decency to look mildly ashamed. “Sorry. I let my emotions get the best of me.”

“Malik needs that apology more than I do, but you can do that later. I asked you a question.”

“It’s nothing. I’ll apologize to Malik, then go somewhere else for the rest of the shoot. You can call me when you’re done.”

Stubbornly, she put her hands on her hips. “That’s not what I’m asking for. Altair, you promised to never lie to me again, even by omission. So unless you want to taste the right hook Rauf’s been teaching me, tell me now; what’s really bothering you?”

“I…” he sighed, running his hand through his short hair. “It’s stupid. I know it is, but every time he gets close to you, I can’t help but think about how good you two look together.”

Her jaw dropped. “What?”

“I know it wouldn’t happen; Malik and I have matured far beyond that point and you’re not the sort to date a man’s best friend, but if you and I ever broke up—”

“As I haven’t even considered dumping you even at your most asinine, I suggest you get such nonsense out of your head,” she snapped, slapping his chest sharply.

Taking a deep, frustrated breath, he carded his fingers through his hair. “You wanted honesty, didn’t you? You’re constantly together. When you accepted the negotiator job at Creed International, you insisted on working with him, not me. In the mornings, you fence together while I run the parkour course alone. Even when you first met, you instantly clicked. Now I have to watch him practically make love to you. It bothers me because you two would make sense; you’re both intelligent, attractive, proud, and love to make sarcastic comments at my expense. You’re,” he hesitated, shoulders hanging in defeat, “well, you would make a good couple, and that drives me crazy.”

Understanding dawned on her. For all of Altair’s arrogance and brilliance, he was still scared of losing those he loved. Gently, she cupped his cheek. “Darling, if I wanted to be with Malik, don’t you think I would have made a move by now? I insisted on working with him instead of you to avoid the same rumors that plagued me at Templar Industries. I’m sorry if you’ve been feeling neglected; I hadn’t realized you wanted me to run the course with you, or how much time he and I have been spending together. I promise to divide my time more evenly.” Linking her fingers through his, she gave him a sincere smile. “I chose you, and for better or for worse, I see my decisions through to the end.”

“You’re sure? I want you to be happy; if Malik—”

She gave him an affectionate kiss on the cheek. “Quit being an idiot. The only way I’d sleep with Malik is if we had that threesome you keep proposing. Which, may I remind you, is never going to happen.”

Altair gave a chuckle as he leaned in for a deeper kiss, but Maria held her hand in front of his face. “Much as I’d love to snog those silly thoughts out of your head, I’m not delaying the shoot further by having to get my makeup redone. I already had to spend an hour in in the chair as it is. Now, you can come back in if you promise to be good, but I expect no more glaring, baiting, or questions regarding mine or Malik’s integrity.”

Slightly annoyed, he pressed his forehead to hers. “I promise, but it still might be hard to watch you with another man.”

She playfully stroked his chest. “Malik might be the one touching me, but I promise, you’re the one I’ll be imagining,” she whispered, breath fanning across his lips.

A devilish expression morphed his face, and before she could protest, he’d pinned her to the wall, mouth latching on to her neck.

“Ah! Altair now is not the time,” she moaned, even as she buried her hands in his short hair, nails digging into his scalp in the way she knew he liked.

He barely pulled away far enough to respond, “Claudia wants you to look ready to be ravished, doesn’t she? Since Malik won’t be getting you in the mood, I guess it’s up to me.” As his mouth returned to her ivory throat, his hands greedily caressed her body, teasing all the sensitive places he’d discovered over the past several months. Reassured as he was that his Maria was still happy with him, he was determined to ensure that, throughout the entire raunchy photo shoot, her thoughts would still be strictly on him.

Unable to keep the grin off her red lips, Maria allowed her boyfriend to have his way with her for the moment. He was right; she needed to look overwhelmed with desire, and Malik, though handsome, simply wasn’t going to fan those flames of lust the same way.

Five minutes seemed to simultaneously pass by too quickly and take an eternity, but finally, Altair pulled away. Inspecting her, he gave a pleased smirk. Already knowing what she was going to find, she glanced in the mirror anyway. Her cheeks were flushed and her pupils blown, dramatic curls slightly mussed. Her breast heaved with every shallow breath, both from the restrictive corset and racing heart. Her body hummed in pleasure from his attentions, and goosebumps had risen wherever he’d touched. Maria looked like a woman ready to be bedded, and it took her inherent sense of professionalism to not just say “screw it” and abandon the photo shoot to instead rock her boyfriend’s world.

What made her roll her eyes was the brilliant red hickey he’d laid on the left side of her neck. The placement was deliberate; the scene was set up so that only Malik’s right side would be photographed to hide his missing arm, necessitating that Maria be filmed from the left. There would be no choice but to either try to cover it up, or just accept it as part of the shoot. Knowing Claudia, it would probably be the latter. It wouldn’t look out-of-place on a romance novel cover but damned if it weren’t an obvious mark of ownership.

Trying to give him a sour look proved futile, however, as he gave her a wink and tugged her back out towards the studio. Instead, she smirked.

She’d get him back afterwards, and make sure he never doubted her desire for him again. Claudia had gifted her a rather lovely Rosa Amore gift basket as a thank you, after all, which she knew included a set of handcuffs that were just Altair’s size.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I've been spoiled from The Dubai Seduction, as each chapter received so many wonderful comments, which encouraged me to keep it up. Heck, I figured with so many people asking for me to continue, this would at least have people writing in to send me ideas. I'll admit, after getting no feedback on the last chapter, I was feeling pretty discouraged, especially since I've got two more chapters about Claudia and Malik. Hopefully, this fanservice chapter will encourage more feedback, both good and bad.


	12. Claudia and the Host Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At Leonardo's suggestion, Claudia and the girls watch Ouran High School Host Club, and an unusual conversation starts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to an anime convention this weekend, so I figured this was appropriate. Gods, just imagine an Assassin's Creed Host Club...

“I should start one of these,” Claudia said around a spoonful of rocky road ice cream.

They were in Aveline’s home in New Orleans, finally having their long-overdue sleepover. After the first hour of catching up, they’d decided to eat ice cream sundaes and do makeovers. At that point, the Italian beauty had pulled out an anime series that Leo had recommended to have on in the background. Certain that they’d be too busy chatting to really watch, the others agreed to watch one episode while their face masks and nails dried.

One episode had turned into seven, with everyone enjoying the comedy and cute boys, but Claudia had been especially captivated. While everyone else was getting into pajamas and serving themselves a second helping of ice cream, she was practically glued to the television.

It was safe to say Claudia Auditore was obsessed with Ouran High School Host Club.

“What, an indoor tropical resort?” Maria asked. “Sorry to say, you’ll have some stiff competition; Creed International’s already started building one.”

“Not that; I want to start a host club.”

She nearly choked on her chocolate chip cookie dough. “Are you serious?”

She nodded, still not tearing her eyes away from the screen. “It’s brilliant. Girls of all ages could be doted on by cute guys without worrying about them turning into pigs.”

“So, you basically want to start a G-rated strip club,” quipped Aveline as she poured more caramel sauce on her fudge brownie sundae.

That got her to pull herself away from the TV to glare at the American actress. “It’ll be a classy establishment! There will be drinks, hors-d'oeuvres, entertainment; everything the ladies could want.” Her eyes glazed over slightly as she described her vision, a dreamy smile on her face. “The air will be filled with the scent of fresh roses every day, with chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, elegant couches and tea sets, and soft instrumental music in the background. Each host will be a specific type, appealing to the desires of the customers. We’ll have special theme nights where the men will dress up and play characters to fulfill romantic fantasies.” Crossing her arms, she nodded to herself. “I’ve made up my mind; I’m opening a host club.”

Evie sighed. She wasn’t sure if the twinge behind her temples was from the mocha chip or the inevitable insanity, but she was certain she was going to need aspirin soon. “Claudia, sweetie, you know I’ll always support you, but you do realize it could end up being a sexual harassment nightmare, right?”

“It’s not like I’d be running a brothel!”

Setting her ice cream aside, Maria began ticking off her fingers. “You’d have to carefully screen every man you hire, set strict policies about physical contact, and probably install cameras everywhere to make sure nothing untoward happens.”

“It’s not just the men you have to worry about,” Aveline added. “You’re going to need to keep an eye on the customers, too. Some girls may see this as a chance to get a little handsy with the hosts or become possessive stalkers, and the guys may not feel like they could tell them to stop since they’re being paid to flirt with them.”

“I know that!” Claudia pouted. “Think of all the good it could do, though! Shy girls can get the chance to boost their confidence, learning to flirt in a safe space. Plain girls can learn how beautiful they really are. Smart girls won’t have to dumb themselves down to talk to a boy. Indecisive girls could find out what kind of man they actually want without being branded a slut. Most of all, I’ve been thinking about how so many women, especially teenagers, are willing to settle for pigs because they think it’s the best they can do. Every woman deserves to be treated like a princess with no strings attached.”

Evie’s eyes turned sympathetic. “You want to make sure nobody ends up with a guy like Duccio, huh?”

Maria frowned. “He’s your ex-boyfriend, right?”

“ _Si_ , and he was a manipulative, insecure, cheating pig!”

Patting her shoulder, the Englishwoman replied, “I’ve had my share of assholes, too, but do you really think a host club is a good solution?”

Resolutely, she nodded. “I want women to realize they deserve good men by offering that experience. They should know what it’s like to be treated like a princess, to see what a true gentleman is. I’m sick of _bastardos_ like Duccio getting away with murder because their girlfriend doesn’t see that she deserves better.”

Bringing over a can of whipped cream, Aveline said consolingly, “ _Ma cherie_ , I understand. It’s not a terrible idea; it’s just going to take a lot of work and planning.”

She absently traced the scar on her thigh. It had healed nicely, but the bullet hole was still visible, and in the cutthroat modeling world, imperfection was a career death sentence. “Well, I’ve got plenty of time on my hands now. Might as well use it for something other than moping.”

Anxious to keep Claudia’s mind off her unfortunate early retirement, Maria asked, “So, what kind of host do you think the boys would be?”

The trio of women stared at her in disbelief. “Pardon?”

She shrugged, blushing in embarrassment. “Well, clearly, Ezio’s the Princely type. He can charm the pants off any woman he sets his sights on. A few men, too.”

A small, amused smile came to Claudia’s lips. “Ah, I see what you’re getting at. I’d say Connor’s the Wild Type, then; he and Mori are practically the same person, only without the subservience.”

“I doubt there’s anyone we know that could fit the Boy Lolita type,” Evie laughed, getting into the game.

“I don’t know,” Aveline joked. “Connor can get quite protective of Desmond. Maybe he’s got a side to him we don’t know about.”

“Next time I see him, I’ll give him some cake and a stuffed rabbit and see what happens!” Claudia giggled.

Distributing a generous amount of whipped cream onto her half-melted sundae, Maria said, “Now, Malik, he’s definitely Kyouya; the Shadow Lord of the Host Club, secretly running things while putting up a snarky but charming front.”

“Absolutely. I can just see him keeping Altair in line with subtle suggestions, threats, and bribery.”

“I can personally vouch that that is exactly what happens, though Altair’s capable of giving as good as he’s got.”

“So, they’re both Kyouya?” Aveline asked.

Both his cousin and his girlfriend really had to think it over. “Sort of,” Claudia admitted. “He’s certainly the charming but cool intellectual, able to manipulate events to his liking without people noticing. Not to mention, he’s got a scary side to him that I wouldn’t want to cross.”

Maria rested her chin in her palm. “He’ll play the Princely type for the press when it suits him, or when he wants to impress a girl, but it’s really all for show. In private, he’s a bit more like Mori; quiet, gentle, loyal, and protective, happy to just sit and read with me in the library or go horseback riding.”

The Italian smiled. “Sounds like things are going well.”

“They are. Now that he doesn’t feel like he needs to impress or seduce me, our relationship’s more relaxed, and falling in love with him has come naturally.”

“Awwww!” the three women cooed.

Blushing at the attention, she said, “Let’s get back on topic. What’s Edward?”

“Oh, definitely the Little Devil type,” Aveline said. “Jacob, too.”

“Yeah, Jacob could easily be one of the Hitachiin twins.”

“Too bad he’s Evie’s twin instead!” Claudia teased.

They all had to laugh. Jacob was probably more of a braggart than the animated twins, but both could easily see him messing with the ladies by teasing a forbidden romance. Evie could recount multiple times, both as children and adults when he’d expressed disappointment that they weren’t identical so they could play tricks on people.

“I can't argue with that, though luckily I have Henry to reign him in. I'd say he's the more literal definition of the Intellectual type, though with a good dose of the Natural. He’s sweet, thoughtful, and always knows the right thing to say to make me feel better,” Evie gushed dreamily.

With an amused smile and a shake of her head, Aveline replied, “Arno’s the Natural, too. Elise is always going on about his boyish charm and sweetness.” A thought came to her, and she turned back to Claudia. “So, what’s Yusuf?”

“Yeah,” Evie chimed in. “He’s charming, but not to the extent of Tamaki, though he does treat you like a princess. He’s mischievous but more laid-back than the twins. He’s definitely not Mori or Huni, and while he’s no dummy, he’s not the Cool Intellectual.”

Maria chewed a spoonful of ice cream thoughtfully. “I’d almost say he’s the Natural by default, but even that doesn’t seem right since he’s more…enthusiastic, I guess. Sure, his charm comes naturally, but it’s more playful. I just can’t pin him down.”

All three women stared at Claudia expectantly, who just gave a warm, adoring smile. “Yusuf was the one who showed me that being treated like a princess didn’t have to mean being showered with expensive gifts or taken to fancy parties. He showed it by doing little things I didn’t know I wanted, like sending me my favorite flowers for no reason, talking for hours on the phone, buying little trinkets just because he thought I might like them, and speaking to me like I was not only his equal but the only one that mattered.”

“Awwww,” Maria said with a smile. “That doesn’t answer my question, though.”

With a shrug and a blush, she replied, “Then I guess he’s just the Yusuf type. Which, if you ask me, is the best type of all.”


	13. What the Boys Were Doing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just three little shorts about what some of the boys were doing when the girls left for their sleepover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No real plot to these, just fun little interactions between some of the guys I thought would be amusing. Plus, I think I seriously underused Leonardo, so I'll try to include him more in the future.

“Isn’t the girl’s sleepover this weekend?” Malik asked, absently glancing up from his laptop to look at his partner.

“It is,” Altair replied absently, reading the fine print of a contract.

“Is Maria going?”

“Of course. Her flight to New Orleans was this morning. Shouldn’t you know this? She technically works for you, after all,” he replied, just managing to keep the jealousy out of his voice.

Malik shrugged. “I’m just surprised you’re not with her.”

“It’s a three-day, girls-only slumber party. I’m fairly certain I have a bit too much penis to be on the guest list,” he said flippantly, putting down his signature before moving onto the next document in the pile on his desk.

“That’s never stopped you from crashing a party before.”

“Why would I want to go?”

“Let’s start with the fact that you’re an arrogant, paranoid fool and work backwards, shall we?” he replied with a smirk. “It’s a sleepover; it’s practically law for girls to gossip about their boyfriends. You can’t tell me you aren’t anxious to know what Maria might say about you.”

“Have you considered I’m comfortable enough in our relationship that I trust her and respect her privacy?”

His best friend studied him for a moment, then laughed. “Connor forbade you from even setting foot on American soil this weekend, didn’t he?”

“He said it’s for my own good since Aveline was quite vocal about what would happen to any uninvited male that dared trespass.” Altair didn’t even try to hide his shudder. “Given how creative the girls can get, I’m going to trust his judgment on this.”

“I take it you’ve got other means to listen in on what they’re saying, then? Bugging her bags, having Rebecca hack into Aveline’s security system?”

“I considered it but decided it’s not worth the risk. Curiosity killed the cat, after all.”

“Yet satisfaction brought it back,” Malik added slyly.

“Which would allow the girls to kill me all over again. No, Malik, I’m not going to spy on them. I value my life too much at this point.”

He gave a huff of annoyance. “There goes my weekend entertainment.”

Altair finally raised his head to look at his friend, eyebrow arched wryly. “You wanted to listen in on the girls?”

“I wanted to watch you get your ass kicked.”

XXX

“Please, Leo?” Ezio practically begged, brown eyes wide, lip stuck out in a dramatic pout.

“For the last time, Ezio, I won’t!” the Italian inventor grumbled, doing his best to focus on the tiny microchip he was attempting to fix instead of his devastatingly handsome best friend. Gods, they’d know each other for over a decade, so why couldn’t he ignore the man’s sexual magnetism? Leonardo’s crush had died down over the years, but there were times, especially when he was dressed in nothing but tight jeans and a tank top, pleading with those warm, hazel eyes, that he found even the simplest tasks hard to concentrate on.

“But it’s for her own safety!” he insisted, running his hand through his long bangs. “Connor forbade me from going near Aveline’s house, so how else am I to know my little sister’s safe?”

“You could have her call you for updates?” he supplied helpfully.

“And sound like a nagging mother? She’d mock me forever.”

“Better a nagging mother than an obsessive stalker. I know you just want to listen in on the girls, _tesoro_ , and I won’t be drawn into your schemes.”

Ezio pouted. “I thought you were supposed to be my best friend.”

“I am, which is why I’m stopping you from getting yourself killed. What do you think would happen if your sister found out you were spying on her and her friends?”

He thought for a moment, rubbing his chin, olive skin shimmering under the florescent lights of the lab. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take. I’m not asking much, Leo; just put one of your little microphones in Claudia’s bag so we can listen in. It’ll be fun!”

Leonardo sighed, pushing away from his workstation. The handsome billionaire was already distracting on the best of days, but when he got like this, he knew he’d get nothing done. “I’ve never understood the appeal of spying on a girl’s slumber party.”

“I thirst for the knowledge I might not gain otherwise. For example, I might learn that Aveline and Connor secretly yearn to involve me in a threesome.”

Leonardo nearly tripped on his own chair. “What?!”

“I certainly wouldn’t say no. In fact, I’d be more than willing to propose it myself if I knew Connor was interested. He’s so passive and self-sacrificing, I often wonder if he’s aware those among our group would do anything for him.

“I wasn’t aware you were interested in men,” Leonardo said hesitantly. Now that image would make its way into his fantasies, he was sure.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Man or woman, anyone with eyes would be attracted to Connor. I mean, have you seen his arms? His size might be a bit intimidating, but Aveline is so gorgeous I’d be happy to endure for her sake if they were both willing.” He sighed dreamily. “The soft caress of a woman’s flesh is one of the greatest pleasures a man could ask for. Though men are not my preference, I’d be honored if they invited me into their bed. In fact, I’d feel it was my duty. Imagine if dear, shy Connor has been attracted to me all this time, but too scared to say anything for fear of rejection? Can you imagine the torture of such unrequited attraction?”

Leonardo stared at him, jaw dropped in shock, before burying his face in his hands, muttering, “ _Dai nemici mi guardo io, dagli amici mi guardi Iddio!_ ” Honestly, his best friend was magnificent, but his idiocy and arrogance were such turn-offs. Was he really that oblivious, even after all these years? Finally, he looked up with a glare. “You seriously think Aveline would talk about such a thing?”

“Girls let down their guard at slumber parties. They are more open, discussing fantasies and heartbreaks and comparing their partners. With no men around, they are free to talk about all the naughty things they’d never speak of otherwise,” he replied salaciously.

“If it were another group of ladies, I’d _almost_ understand your reasoning, but do you really want to risk finding out all the ‘naughty things’ Claudia does with Yusuf?”

That made Ezio pause, face twisting in disgust. “Ah. You may have a point there.”

He nodded sagely. “I’ve had ‘girl talk’ with your sister after a few glasses of your uncle’s wine, _mio amico_. Trust me when I say by the end of the night, you’ll either need to kill Yusuf or give yourself a lobotomy. They’re quite…adventurous in the bedroom.”

Letting out an overdramatic, exasperated sigh, he replied, “Fine. No spying. But if I find out I could have been in a _ménage à trois_ with two gorgeous Americans, I’ll never pose for your anatomy diagrams ever again.”

XXX

Sweat dripping down his brow, Jacob inhaled deeply as he finished his hundredth push-up. He got up as a pair of familiar footsteps echoed through his private gym. “Everything set with Evie?”

“I just dropped her off at the airport,” Henry replied, handing him a towel.

The Brit wiped down his naked, tattooed chest. “Good to hear. You made sure she didn’t bring any paperwork with her, right?”

“I removed it from her bags this morning while she was in the shower,” he said with a mischievous wink.

“She won’t be getting emails while she’s gone either, right?”

“Aveline has assured me she’ll confiscate her laptop until her flight home Sunday.”

“What about the employees?”

“Forbidden from calling her without our explicit permission.”

“Other calls?”

“Leonardo was kind enough to install a prototype for his new form of caller ID. If it’s from us it’ll go through. If it’s a business number, they’ll be automatically redirected to the office. If it’s spam, it will send a mild shock through the phone to the caller.”

Jacob smirked. “Heh, nice. Might need Leo to hook me up with one of those.”

Henry chuckled. “I wouldn’t mind one myself. I must say, excessive as it is, it’s good of you to look after your sister like this.”

Rolling his shoulders to keep the muscles loose, he replied, “It’s the least I can do, considering how she pretty much runs the company nonstop while I’m in the ring. One day in the office won’t kill me, so she’s taking a few days off whether she likes it or not.”

Henry smiled fondly. “The company is something she takes a lot of pride in, so she doesn’t like leaving things unfinished. She’s a very focused woman.”

“Single-minded, more like. This weekend is supposed to be for her to have fun with the girls, and she’d still spend it doing work if we let her.”

“She doesn’t like things slipping through the cracks,” he defended half-heartedly. He loved his wife, but he too would admit that she often put first. More than once he’d had to carry her home after she’d fallen asleep in her office, and even during their honeymoon she’d been answering emails until he’d literally had to beg her to stop. Perhaps Jacob was right to take all these precautions.

“That’s why I’m actually going to the office this morning. I know I’ve been a cock-up in the past, but she should at least trust me enough to spend one Friday in the office unsupervised without causing any train crashes.” He smirked, clapping him affectionately on the back. “At the very least, she should trust you enough to keep me in line, eh?”

Henry couldn’t quite keep the grin off his face. “Agreed. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been your babysitter.”

“Nor will it likely be the last, if Evie has anything to say about it.” He glanced at the clock. “Looks like it’s almost time to brave the office. Let me throw on a shirt and I’ll be ready.”

Henry looked at his sweaty, athletic shorts-clad brother-in-law disbelievingly. “You mean change into a suit, right?”

The UFC fighter blinked. “Blimey, I have to wear a suit? Considering how I own half the company, I should get to wear what I want.”

Taking a deep, calming breath, he replied, “Jacob, I’m going to tell you this as slowly and as clearly as I can; you’re not going into the office in your workout gear, smelling like a pig. You’re going to take a shower, put on a suit and tie, and look like a respectable human being for once.”

The twin’s trademark devilish smile crossed his lips. “Evie wouldn’t want me to be late for work.”

“Evie doesn’t have to know, but I have to smell you all day. Now go, or do you need me to pick out your clothes for you?”

Rolling his eyes, Jacob tossed his towel onto a nearby treadmill. “I can do it myself, _mother_.”

“If I were your mother, I’d have a lot less tolerance for your cheek.”

“You love me for it,” he said, throwing a wink over his shoulder.

Shaking his head as the Englishman jogged up the stairs, Henry called, “Some days I do. Others, I’m certain that you are my punishment for a sin I must have committed in a past life!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations (sorry if they're not 100% accurate, I found them on Google):  
> "Tesoro" means "treasure" which is a term of endearment.  
> “Dai nemici mi guardo io, dagli amici mi guardi Iddio!” means "I will protect myself from my enemies, may God protect me from my friends."


	14. Malik's Advice to Claudia Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After her first Victoria's Secret show, Claudia's enjoying some clubbing, when she runs into a familiar set of twins.

Two months after turning eighteen, Claudia was basking in the afterglow of her first Victoria’s Secret show, a grand production held in Dubai. Duccio had declined to attend, claiming he had work to do, but after their talk at the party she was confident he would be at the next one when he had less on his plate.

That belief was strengthened when, before the show, an enormous bouquet of pink roses and yellow sunflowers arrived for her backstage. Few people knew how much she loved those flowers; they reminded her of happier, more innocent times, as they’d been plastered all over her bedroom when she was a child. She’d already gotten a bouquet of roses from her parents, and another from Ezio. Though there was no one attached, with everyone else accounted for, she knew it had to be Duccio. She made a note to call him the next day; she didn’t want to disturb his meeting.

She had plans for the night, anyway. The other Angels, happy for their youngest model’s successful debut, had insisted she join them at the numerous afterparties throughout the city. Eager to spend more time with her new coworkers, she happily accepted. She laughed, danced, and drank, celebrating her first step into this amazing new world.

Around the third nightclub, she was feeling pleasantly tipsy and her feet started to ache. Waving the other women to enjoy themselves on the dancefloor, she grabbed a spot at the bar and attempted to communicate with the bartender what she wanted to drink. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to speak English or Italian, and she didn’t know a lick of Arabic.

Luckily for her, a handsome pair of twins came to her rescue. “Why don’t we translate your order, little fox?” one of them asked with a smile.

Claudia sighed gratefully. “ _Grazie_ , _signores_. I’d love a Tequila Sunrise, if you please.”

The first twin barked something to the bartender in Arabic while the other introduced himself. “I’m Shahar, and this is Shalim. We were quite impressed at the show.”

Blushing slightly, she shrugged. “All I did was walk in a straight line while wearing lingerie. Far from impressive.”

Shalim chuckled as the bartender finished her drink, putting it on a cool blue coaster. She eagerly accepted it and took a long sip, pleased with the taste. Not too much tequila, but far from skimping on the alcohol. Absolutely perfect.

“Then I guess we were simply impressed by your natural grace and poise. You held yourself like a princess,” he said with a wink. “We found ourselves utterly captivated.”

Though her loyalty to Duccio was still strong, it was nice hearing such compliments. Besides, like her brother, she was naturally flirtatious; it came as easily as breathing, especially with alcohol in her system. “You’re too kind. Perhaps you two should become models; I’m sure strapping young men are always in demand.”

“Hmmm, while we’d love an excuse to work with you, I doubt your company would be as receptive.”

“Neither of us can fill out a bra like you can,” added Shahar.

Claudia laughed. “Wouldn’t that be something to see!”

He wrinkled his nose but quickly recovered. “I’m sure it would, but we’re much more interested in seeing you. After all, why compete with perfection? Perhaps you’d be up for a private show, princess?”

Fanning herself exaggeratedly, she put down her drink. “Again, you’re too kind, but only my father calls me ‘princess.’”

“Perhaps you’d be willing to call us ‘daddy?’” Shalim asked, running his finger down her bare arm.

Realizing their intentions, she immediately sobered up enough to turn down the flirting. No need to give these men the wrong impression. Giving an apologetic smile, even if she was put-off by his crudeness, she replied, “I’m sorry, but I don’t even call my boyfriend that.”

Shahar gently turned her towards him. “Yet here you are, no boyfriend in sight. Wasn’t this your debut show? How could any lover miss that?”

Trying to seem nonchalant, she shrugged. “Unfortunately, work came up. I don’t begrudge him that.”

“Really? Most women would be devastated, seeking comfort in another’s arms for such disrespect.”

Her eyes narrowed a bit. “Well, not me. I love him, and if he were here right now, he’d inform you that he doesn’t share.”

“Clearly, he’s an only child. Anyone with a sibling could tell you how important sharing is. Shalim and I share everything. It’s what makes us such good lovers; we don’t let petty jealousy get in our way.”

Something about how he said that felt…odd to her, along with their constant use of “we.”  Reaching for her drink, her knuckles knocked against the glass, making it spill over slightly. She frowned. She could have sworn she hadn’t put it down that far to the left. “True, but it’s still important to set some boundaries.”

Shalim leaned against the counter, flashing her a grin. “If the princess says so. Will you be in Dubai long?”

Glad the conversation had changed to a more comfortable topic, she grabbed a napkin to wipe down her wet glass. “I’ll be heading home the day after tomorrow. The organizers wanted us to have a day to rest before flying off again.”

He nodded. “Probably to allow the girls to recover from their hangovers and sneak the previous night’s partner out of their room.”

While she couldn’t completely disagree, Claudia felt slightly offended. She’d found most of the women she was now working with were quite lovely, and she wouldn’t begrudge them for having fun. “That might be the case for some, but not for me. If you’ll excuse me, _signores_ , as nice as this conversation has been, I think I’m ready to turn in.”

“Oh?” Shahar said teasingly, though he gave a bit more space when he sensed that wasn’t an invitation. “I do hope we haven’t offended you. It was never our intention.”

Nibbling her bottom lip, she suddenly felt a bit guilty. Perhaps he’d just been trying to make conversation, giving her the chance to refute such rumors. That didn’t mean she wanted to stick around, though. “Oh, no, not at all! However, I do need to call my boyfriend. He was nice enough to send me a bouquet of flowers, and I want to wish him goodnight.”

“What’s ten minutes more?” asked Shalim. “You haven’t even had more than a sip of your drink.”

Glancing at the bar, she realized he was right. Despite how good it had been, with the conversation, she’d completely forgotten about it. “Well…”

“If you’re not thirsty, though, perhaps the princess would grace us with a dance, then?” he asked, though his eyes were noticeably lingering on her cleavage.

She shook her head. “I’ll pass. My feet are killing me, and I fear if I try to get up, I’ll faint.”

“We’d be happy to wake you with a kiss.”

Again with the “we.” Did they even realize how creepy that made them sound? At a loss for a response, she reached for her drink, only for a firm hand to grasp her wrist midair. Jerking her head around, she was shocked to find Malik standing behind her. “You!”

“Me.” He glared at the pair of twins. “You picked the wrong woman to mess with. The bartender is on the phone with the cops right now, so you’d best leave before they arrest you.”

Shalim glared at him as Shahar straightened up. “What for?”

Almost instantly, two more men appeared. One was an enormous bodyguard, with a thick brown beard and a deep frown, clearly ready to bash in some heads. The other was a young man about Claudia’s age. He looked like a softer version of Malik but with brilliant blue eyes, and his expression was just as angry as he grabbed her abandoned drink and picked something up off the bar.

It was the coaster, which had turned bright orange where her drink had spilled.

“For drugging a woman’s drink. These coasters are specifically designed to detect roofies.”

Claudia gasped as Shalim instantly snarled, “You have no proof it was us! Maybe the bartender spiked her drink.”

The young man glared at him. “I doubt the bartender would be calling the cops on himself, but if you’re so certain, we can check the cameras.”

“What cameras?” asked Shahar, voice strained with concern.

“The ones that were installed last week to prevent shit like this from happening while the Victoria’s Secret models were in town,” Malik sneered. “If you’re truly innocent, you have nothing to worry about, but if you’re a skeezy as you look, you should rush home now and convince Daddy to start paying off the authorities.”

“Of course, if you don’t know the way, I’d be happy to escort you myself,” said the large bodyguard with a dark grin and an eager look in his eye. He nodded to the younger man. “I’ve been teaching Kadar here some choke holds, and you two would make excellent practice dummies.”

Realizing they were both outwitted and outmatched, the twins cleared out in a hurry. The large man nodded to Malik and Kadar. “I’m going to make sure they actually leave, then talk to the cops. Daddy’s money can’t protect them forever.”

“Thanks, Rauf. We’ll join you once we’re done here.”

Placing a hand over her suddenly pounding heart, Claudia smiled at Malik. “Thank you. I thought they were odd, but I hadn’t imagined they were the type to spike a girl’s drink.”

Despite her gratitude, his voice was harsh. “You need to be more careful. Your cousin and I won’t always be around to save you.”

“Altair’s here?” she asked hopefully, looking around. Though his words four years ago had stung, it didn’t stop the glimmer of hope that sprung up. Four years was plenty of time for her cousin to come to his senses. She would have preferred if he’d simply called her, but perhaps he’d been too ashamed of his past actions, stewing in his own guilt. Well, this was a perfect opportunity for him to make up for his past actions, and given the circumstances, she was willing to forgive him.

However, she couldn’t seem to find him anywhere. At her confused frown, Malik pointed up at a private balcony where Altair was making out with a woman Claudia recognized as Adha, his infamous fiancée. “He noticed you were associating with some rather unsavory men and asked us to intervene.”

Claudia’s jaw immediately clenched as the bubble of hope that had been building up burst. “He sent you?”

Malik snorted. “Of course. Who were you expecting?”

Something bitter began to fill up the void in her chest, stirred on by the alcohol in her system. She’d only met this man twice before, but somehow, given his penchant for not sugar-coating words, she hadn’t thought him capable of bullshit, especially not in favor of her cousin. Her eyes narrowed as her fists clenched. “I’m willing to give you sincere thanks for helping me, Malik. Surely such a thought isn’t so revolting that you need to lie to my face.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb. Altair doesn’t even know I’m here. That would require him to stop sucking face with the oil heiress for more than half a second.”

Kadar quickly stepped in, placing a comforting hand on her arm. “You are Claudia Auditore, right? I swear, he did send us.” He gave her a warm, sweet smile, so different from his brother’s hard scowl. “If you want, you can come with us to the balcony and ask him yourself.”

“No, she can’t, Kadar,” Malik said quickly.

“Why not?”

Malik said something in Arabic, and his face instantly fell. “Oh, right.” He gave her an apologetic look. “Well, maybe not, but he really did send us. He wouldn’t let anything happen to his family.” His blue eyes were so earnest it hurt, and she could tell by the way he glanced up at the balcony that he absolutely worshiped the ground Altair walked on. She’d know that look anywhere; she and Ezio had once looked at him the same way.

Somehow, that made it worse. If her cousin hadn’t noticed she was in trouble, if Malik and Kadar had come down on their own, she’d understand. Malik, while an ass, didn’t seem like the sort to turn a blind eye to a girl getting drugged. Kadar appeared to genuinely want to help her. Them rescuing her of their own volition was perfectly acceptable. She couldn’t expect her cousin to be looking out for her all the time, especially if he didn’t know she was there. It would suck, but she could deal with it.

If what they said was true, then all that goodwill vanished. It would mean that Altair did see her but couldn’t be bothered to stop making out with his fiancée long enough to come save her himself. It would also mean that neither of these men had come down because they saw she needed help, but because they were told to.

If Malik and Kadar were telling the truth, it meant that neither they, nor Altair, really gave a damn about her.

It drove the words he’d said to her all those years ago home. He didn’t care about family, and she didn’t matter.

It made Claudia feel like the stupid little girl he thought she was.

At that moment, something snapped within her, bitterness morphing into irrational anger. “I didn’t need a rescue, especially not from him,” she snarled, shoving the younger man away.

Malik frowned, crossing his arms, unconsciously stepping in front of his brother protectively. The way family was supposed to. “Well, you got one, so learn to appreciate it, you ungrateful child. Let me give you some advice—”

“Shut the fuck up!” she screamed, raising her hand and slapping him across the face. Both brothers froze in shock, as did several nearby clubgoers. Claudia barely noticed. “I don’t need your advice, and I don’t need you lying to me about my cousin giving a damn about me!”

Quickly snapping out of it, Malik firmly caught her elbow. “What have I told you about making a scene? If you want to get mad at that idiot, by all means do, but take it somewhere else,” he said sternly.

Glaring at him, she sneered, “There’s nothing to take somewhere else. I’m leaving. You can tell that _bastardo senza valore_ that he can go fuck himself after he’s done fucking that _puttana_! I hate him!” Tears stung her eyes, and her throat tightened as they started to spill down her cheeks. “I hate him, and I hate you. You can both go to Hell for all I care!”

Yanking out of his grip, she ran out of the club, ignoring the concerned shouts of her fellow models and confused looks of random partiers. She didn’t get far before she was surrounded by a few coworkers, who immediately insisted on taking her back to the hotel, trying to coax what had happened out of her. Claudia refused to talk, eventually managing to make it back to her hotel room where she collapsed on the bed, crying herself to sleep, completely forgetting about calling Duccio to ask how his business meeting had gone.

Perhaps it was for the best. She didn’t need any more heartbreak that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time will probably be the final part of this, with much more Altair in it.


	15. Malik's Advice to Claudia Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a trip to Spain with Ezio, Claudia comes face-to-face with Altair and must struggle to trust him again. Malik, of course, is his cynically helpful self.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final part in this four-part Claudia and Malik-centered series.

Almost a year after the club incident, Ezio asked Claudia to take an impromptu trip with him to Spain. At first, she’d been mildly suspicious; her brother often went traveling without notice, but not once had he ever invited her along. If she had to guess, he needed her as a cover for something. What was he hiding? A secret lover? Had he gotten into trouble? Given the wrong person sensitive documents again? Her stomach filled with dread at the thought. The last incident had led to their father being blackmailed. It was only through some string-pulling and the sudden, mysterious death of the culprit that Papa hadn’t been put in jail.

When she voiced her concern, he just gave his iconic, charming grin. “Nothing of the sort has happened. I just realized you’ve been under a lot of stress, so I thought you could use a vacation. Besides, with your career and boyfriend, we haven’t spent time together as a family for too long.”

The word “family” stung a bit, but she ignored it. She hadn’t told anyone what had happened at the club; she was certain that Ezio would be furious and hunt down the twins himself, and it would just give Duccio more ammo in their next argument. More than that, she didn’t want to tell her brother about how little Altair cared about them; he still had a little bit of hero-worship for their estranged cousin, and she couldn’t bear to break his heart. Only one of them needed to bear that burden.

However, unlike Altair, Ezio loved his family more than anything. Acknowledging this eased her distrust enough to agree to go on the trip. Just because their cousin had let her down didn’t mean her brother would.

Less than a week later the siblings were checking into a comfortable, historic hotel. It wasn’t the height of luxury she was used to, but it was charming, and as Ezio pointed out, the paparazzi would be less likely to look for them there if they got word of their presence. The first few days were spent visiting various landmarks, shopping, clubbing, and more. Sure, Ezio proceeded to flirt with every pretty woman, and even a few men that crossed their paths, but she found no sign of a secret affair or anything else he’d be trying to hide, and at last she allowed herself to relax. Ezio had been honest; he’d simply wanted them to spend time together. No boyfriends, no business, no bothers. Just the two of them.

That all changed on the fourth night, several hours after they'd returned from exploring the city. Claudia had been changing into pajamas, ready to settle in with a romance novel when there was a knock at the door. 

From her bedroom, she heard Ezio open the door. “ _Ciao_ , _fratello mio_. It’s good to see your face again.”

“May we come in?” a deep, Arabic voice asked. It was familiar, and her heart sank in realization. It may have been years since she’d actually heard it, but that low timbre was one she hadn’t forgotten.

“ _Si_ , you’re the one who asked us to come here, after all.”

Swallowing against the tightness that had formed in her throat, Claudia stepped into the living room where Altair was already seated on the couch. Malik was there, too, and she had to suppress a cry of shock when she saw him. He was still painfully handsome, stern, and had an eyebrow raised cynically at her arrival, but her eyes were immediately drawn to his left shoulder.

His arm was missing.

She’d heard about the car accident, but to actually see the damage was something else entirely. Guilt bubbled up in her chest as she remembered how harsh she’d been to his little brother, too. It had been completely uncalled for, and she wished she could go back to that night in the club and somehow be nicer. He seemed like a good boy; he hadn’t deserved her scorn, and he certainly hadn’t deserved to die.

Her cousin regarded her critically. “Hello, Claudia. You look well. Seems the modeling world has been good to you.”

Quickly tearing her eyes from the empty sleeve where Malik’s arm should have been, she stared at Altair instead. A thousand responses danced on her tongue, fighting for the right to come out, but none of them seemed adequate, so she just nodded dumbly.

Strained silenced stretched between the four until Ezio awkwardly offered Malik a seat. “I assume you weren’t followed?”

He snorted but accepted. “No, thankfully. Al Mualim believes I’m at some physical therapy retreat in the Alps, while the Novice here is off tending to his broken heart by womanizing in France for the week. He made sure to be as ostentatious as possible the past few days to give the paparazzi something to talk about while he crossed the border.”

“What about spies? You said he’s gotten even more paranoid since the hit.”

“His informants are spread thin trying to deal with de Sable. He has none to spare on a cripple and his faithful protégée,” he replied darkly. “Besides, I pity any fool that might report our whereabouts; Rauf’s been looking for an excuse to take out the old bastard himself.”

“Luckily, he knows that’s not his call,” Altair coldly stated, leaning back against the plush leather cushions. His posture seemed relaxed, but Claudia noticed how his eyes darted throughout the suite, like an animal that smelled a predator but couldn’t pinpoint its location or whether he was being stalked.

Ezio’s expression was uncharacteristically grim. “When will you strike?”

“Perhaps a month after you hand us the deed to the island. Once all the pieces are in place, we’ll claim his health has taken a turn for the worse, forcing an early retirement, and he’s ordered us to take over in his stead.”

“That long? What if he finds out?”

“Your concern is noted, but we must do these things carefully,” Malik replied. “Naturally, we’re going to be facing suspicion from the board members after his death. Anything they can do to wrench power from us, they’ll do, and that includes investigating our finances. If they see we just so happened to have bought some private island so soon before his ‘retirement—’”

“—The authorities will be on us before you can blink, and some of them might actually be noble enough not to accept a bribe. We might as well have taken out a life insurance policy the day before we kill him,” Altair said sourly.

Under the potent combination of feeling left out of some important loop, the tension in the air, and just being in the general proximity of her cousin, Claudia finally snapped, “What the hell is going on? Why are they here? What’s this about killing a man?”

Altair gave Ezio an annoyed look. “You didn’t tell her?”

“I thought it best if she heard it from you.” He gave his sister a guilty smile. “Altair reached out to me six months ago. It seems he’s in a bit of trouble and could use our help. Please, hear him out. There’s much we didn’t know.”

“Oh, really?” she spat. “Even if I ignore the fact that he’s flat-out told me he doesn’t care about family, since he’s gotten here, all Altair’s done is talk of murder, spies, and hostile take-overs. Family or no, I’m not letting you get involved in whatever dangerous scheme he’s roping you into.”

“I know what I’m doing, Claudia,” he insisted.

“Oh, like you knew what you were doing when you handed over Papa’s documents?” she shot back, immediately regretting her words when she saw the hurt in his eyes. The blackmailing attempt was still a sore spot for him, on she knew he’d been doing everything to atone for it. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, but you have a history of trusting the wrong person. We were lucky; I can’t let you risk our family a second time.”

“I’d rather not involve your family at all,” Altair interjected. Claudia whirled around to face him as gold eyes stared at her unflinchingly, hard and cold as yellow diamonds. Not at all like the warm, honey orbs she grew up with. “I only even agreed to Ezio bringing you here because he insisted. If it were up to me, you’d have been left at home. However, the Auditores have connections I desperately need for my plan to work.”

“And what plan is that?”

“The plan to finally free myself from Al Mualim’s control and take over Creed International.”

The idea of her carefree, sweet brother being involved in something dangerous filled Claudia with dread. “If you need our help, Ezio? Why not reach out to Papa or Uncle Mario? Hell, why not contact me?” Much as she loved her brother, the fact that Altair had entrusted him with some important plan over her was mildly insulting. Ezio was barely more than a glorified delivery boy inside Papa’s company, often wasting his time and money on women and wine. She, meanwhile, had been helping Uncle Mario balance the family’s financials for years, entrusting her with important and sensitive information.

“I’d rather not get any of you mixed up in this, but I don’t have a choice. I need the help of the Auditore family, and Ezio’s the only one who can do what I need,” Altair replied.

After the incident with the twins, Claudia had stopped taking what people said at face value. Over the past year, having dealt with vindictive models, unscrupulous photographers, and especially sleazy men, she had gotten pretty good at reading between the lines, discerning someone’s true intentions. Because of that, Altair’s actual reason, cold and cruel, smacked her right in the face.

He trusted Ezio because he could be manipulated, his love for family and childhood admiration making him an easy target. He was too trusting, unlike their people-savvy father. He was idealistic, unlike their army-veteran uncle. And unlike her, he hadn’t seen what she had. He hadn’t learned what kind of man their cousin had become; someone who only cared about what he could gain from people.

Clenching her fists, she couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice. “Yes, the _Auditore_ family,” she snarled, rage sparking in her sharp brown eyes. “Not _your_ family.”

Gold eyes narrowed, and had she not known better, she might have said there was a flash of hurt in them. “Family or not, I need the help of powerful people who can get me access to what I need.”

“Uncle Mario and Papa have far more power and influence than he does,” she countered.

“They’ve had enough troubles this past year. Besides, I need someone I can trust that Al Mualim wouldn’t suspect.”

“You mean someone trusting that you can manipulate.”

“You think that little of your brother?” Malik asked, raising an eyebrow.

She whirled on him, furious. “I’m just trying to protect my family from _demoni_ like you!”

“Claudia, that’s enough,” Ezio said, attempting to calm her down. “I’m not blind to our cousin’s faults. I, too, was suspicious when he approached me, but after hearing the things Al Mualim has done, I’m willing to do whatever is necessary to help. It is for the greater good.” Gently, he placed his hands on her shoulders. “Perhaps, once this is all over, we can even be a family again.”

“Family?!” she snapped, violently shoving him away. “Do you think I’m stupid? He doesn’t consider us family. He’s using you, and I can’t believe you lied to me for this _bastardo_.”

“Claudia, I’m sorry. I heard about what happened at the club and knew that you’d never agree to this meeting.”

“Then why did you bring me?”

“Because my reputation as a playboy is well-known, so I needed an excuse not to bring women back to the hotel.”

“So, I was right!” she sneered. “You only wanted me here as a cover!”

Ezio’s eyes grew stormy. “Claudia, Altair needs our help, and family does not abandon each other.”

“He abandoned us!” she screamed. “We tried to contact him for years and he ignored us! Now here he is, saying whatever he must to convince you to help him! All he cares about is how he can use you, what benefits and connections you bring! The second he gets what he wants, he’ll abandon us again without looking back.”

“You’re making a scene, Claudia,” Altair said sternly. “I know you don’t trust me, but you need to calm down before you attract unwanted attention.”

“I suppose I should leave, then! You don’t want me involved, anyway, so why should I subject myself to your presence?” She glared at Ezio who, though looking guilty, refused to back down. “I’ll leave you to spend time with your ‘family.’” Finally, she turned away, stomping out onto the balcony and slamming the French doors behind her.

“I should have known something was up. ‘Family time’ indeed,” she muttered into the empty air, shivering slightly in her flimsy pajamas. Spain was a hot country, but the evenings could get quite cool this time of year. Unfortunately, there was no way she’d be able to go back inside for a sweater. not that her pride would even allow it. Instead, too angry to even cry, she glared off into the horizon, unable to appreciate the beautiful constellations in the late-night sky, silently hoping their super-secret meeting wouldn’t take too long.

The door creaked open behind her, and quiet footsteps approached. “I see you still have a flair for the dramatics.”

A dark blue jacket was draped over her shoulders, and Claudia couldn’t quite keep herself from tugging it closer to protect from the chill, nor from breathing in the pleasant scent of his cologne. Still, that didn’t warm her feelings towards the man. “Fuck off, Malik. I’m in no mood for your wretched advice.”

“Nor I for your tantrums, yet we must all endure hardships for the greater good.”

“Ha! Shouldn’t you be planning your _coup d’état_ against Al Mualim inside? Or were you asked to put up a ‘no girls allowed’ sign first?”

That earned her a smirk that lasted perhaps a half-second before his face became serious again. “Altair asked that I come out and talk to you.”

She gave an unladylike snort. “Sure, he did.”

“He really did. Mainly because he doesn’t have the balls to face you himself.” Malik sighed, leaning against the balcony railing. “He knows you’re angry at him and have every right to be. For what it’s worth, he’s sorry. For everything. He had no choice in the matter; Al Mualim forbade we associate with anyone from before our adoptions. That didn’t mean he ignored you.” He gave a dry chuckle. “In fact, the way he watched over you at times bordered on obsessive stalking. Every connection he could use to keep an eye on you, he did. His old girlfriends were especially useful.”

“Speak sense, won’t you?”

He gave her a meaningful look. “Do you think Victoria’s Secret habitually seeks out girls who haven’t even hit eighteen yet? Or that they’d just so happened to have seen your photos right when they came out and had a contract written up so fast?”

Like a punch to the gut, realization hit her hard, while her heart twisted in despair. “So, it really was too good to be true. I should have known something was up when you mentioned it.”

“From what I understand, you’ve been doing quite well in the modeling world.”

“Have I? Or is everything I thought I accomplished been a lie? A convenient way for a man who can’t talk to me in person to ensure I’m doing what _he_ wants?”

“All Altair did was mention to an old girlfriend, a Victoria’s Secret Angel, that his cousin was getting into modeling and to look at the ads you’d posed in to see if you had a future. He didn’t ask anyone to hire you or make you a star. He certainly didn’t ask for them to put you in that fashion show in Dubai. Altair may have gotten some doors open, but everything else was all you.”

“He’s still an ass that uses others.”

“That he is, but with how dangerous Al Mualim is, it was the only way he could keep you safe. He had me look out for you at parties. Rauf dealt with your family’s blackmailer and helped cleaned up Ezio’s mess. The most he could do on his own was send anonymous flowers. It was maddening to him, to have such little control.”

In hindsight, it all made sense, especially the flowers; when she’d brought them up, Duccio had no idea what she’d been talking about. Thinking it over, given how often they’d played together, it had likely been Altair’s way of saying he still thought of her, to remember such a minor detail of their childhood. Still, Claudia was wary. “I suppose your offer to date me was his idea, too?”

The bark of laughter that came from his throat was brief and harsh. “He asked me to keep you out of trouble, but dating was out of the question. Too much chance of the old man getting his hands on you.”

“Then why did you offer?”

“I’d have said anything to get you away from Duccio da Luca.” His nose wrinkled at the thought of her boyfriend. “Please tell me you’re not still dating him.”

“I am.”

“Do you still believe you love him?”

“No.” She sighed. “I know he’s cheating on me. The other Italian socialites gossip about it whenever they think I can’t hear, and he hasn’t been as discreet as he thinks. Your warnings about his insecurities were spot-on. I just didn’t want to admit it.”

“That he was cheating?”

“That you were right.”

“Don’t torture yourself to prove me wrong. You’re smarter than that.” He sighed. “Your cousin and I are both quite messed up. We can teach you how to survive but don’t look to us to tell you how to live. You’ll just end up bitter and miserable like us.”

“Why are you defending him?” she asked, anger cooling. “I thought you two hated each other?”

He shrugged, and she forced her eyes not to linger on his left side. “We did, but even then I could appreciate wanting to look out for your family. The fact that he’d owe me favors was a nice bonus.”

“What about the club? Did he actually notice me, or were you just looking for Altair to owe you one?”

“Oh, he noticed. That particular club is a favorite of the Angels whenever they’re in town, so he stood vigil in that booth since the show ended. Rauf had to keep him from leaping over the balcony when he saw the twins talking to you. It was the first time I’ve been grateful for Adha’s presence since he couldn’t idiotically run to your rescue with her around. Too much chance of it getting back to Al Mualim.”

Her brow furrowed with concern. “Is he that bad?”

“Yes,” he growled, dark eyes filled with hate. “The old bastard wants us completely under his control. He’s been fucking with our heads for over a decade. Those letters you sent? Altair was forced to throw them onto the fire. When we ran into you at that party, he was beaten just for speaking to you.” At her horrified gasp, he looked even angrier. “That’s not what scares him, though. Al Mualim is embroiled in a dangerous feud. One that’s already cost me both Kadar and my arm. We’ve discussed it, and we agree the old man needs to die. For that, we need your family’s help. If it were up to us, you wouldn’t be involved. Not because he doesn’t want you around, but for your own safety. I’ve lost my family; he doesn’t want to lose his. But we’re short on allies, and if we’re going to do this, we need all the help we can get.”

Standing up, Claudia looked him dead in the eye, mouth set in a resolute line. “What does he need?”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

“Would he actually tell me?”

Reaching out, Malik gingerly patted her on the shoulder. “I think he’s realized how close he is to losing you. For all his arrogance and stubbornness, he’s desperately missed his family. You could probably ask him to pluck out his own eyes if you wanted.”

“For now, I’ll settle for an apology.”

With that, she marched inside, heading straight for her arrogant cousin. Both he and Ezio stopped their discussion to look at her, guilt lingering in their eyes.

Claudia frowned at Altair. “You got me my modeling contract?”

“I used my connections to get you noticed, nothing more,” he said solemnly.

“You took care of Papa’s blackmailer?”

“I sent Rauf to investigate and minimize the damage. When he located the culprit, I gave him permission to deal with him as he saw fit.”

“The flowers at my first runway show; those were from you?”

He actually looked a little embarrassed. “I remembered how much you loved roses and sunflowers as a child. After Malik told me about your fight with your boyfriend, I figured you’d appreciate a bouquet from _someone_.”

At his admission, her voice softened, if only a little. “How can I help?”

“Are you sure you want to be involved in this?” he asked. “If this goes wrong, Al Mualim will not hesitate to have you killed.”

Her frown returned at his lack of answer. “We make sacrifices for those we love. If Al Mualim is as dangerous as you say, we’ll do everything to help, but you’re going to have to stop telling us lies and half-truths. And stop sending Malik to do your dirty work. Next time you screw up, you face me yourself.” She heard the man in question chuckle softly behind her but ignored it. “Most of all, if you want our help, you don’t break ties with us again. You’re not asking the Auditore family for help; you’re asking _your_ family.”

“I won’t,” he said quickly. Golden eyes met hers, this time softer, almost like the warm honey she remembered. “Once the old man is dead, I have no intention of living under his insane rules any longer. I want the freedom he’s denied me. The family he denied me.”

“Good. Then once this is over, you’re coming to the estate and explaining to Mama exactly why you never wrote us. It broke her heart to lose her nephew, and I’m not letting it happen again. Then you’re going to sit down and have a nice, family dinner with us, where you’ll explain exactly what’s happened, both with Al Mualim and with our blackmailer.”

“Do you have any further demands?” he asked grumpily.

“Yes. You are not hiding your presence in my life anymore. Every time we run into each other at a party or a club, you owe me a dance. If I have a show in Dubai, I want you in the front row. I demand _at least_ a phone call on my birthday, and once you’ve taken over Creed International, you’re taking me shopping. You owe me several years’ worth of presents, and you’re going to carry _all_ of my bags.”

Ezio and Malik didn’t bother to hide their laughter as Altair scowled further. “Fine. I suppose it’s a small price to pay for your forgiveness.”

“I haven’t forgiven you, yet.”

A small, affectionate smile crossed his lips, and Claudia felt her own expression soften. This was the cousin she remembered. He wasn’t lost, just hiding, afraid of getting hurt by the cruel world he’d been thrust into. He patted the seat beside him on the couch. “Once Al Mualim is dead, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I promise.”

“I look forward to it.” Taking the offered spot, she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. He hesitated, as if unsure of what to do, before returning the hug, squeezing perhaps a bit too tightly. Claudia suddenly wondered when the last time was that he was shown affection by someone other than a lover. Resolutely, she kissed him on the cheek, silently vowing to spend the rest of her life making up for all those lost years as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who liked this four-part series, I hope you enjoyed. For those of you who hated it, I'll try to do a chapter more focused on post-Dubai Seduction for next time. Let me know what you think/what you'd like in the comments!


	16. La Date Miserable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On their weekly stay-in date, Arno and Elise decide it's time to watch the Hollywood version of Les Miserable. they...have some complaints.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People were asking for Elise and Arno, so here's a little chapter about them that's hopefully both funny and cute. Please imagine all the dialogue in very haughty French. Spoilers for Les Miserables.

Arno and Elise had a very specific schedule in terms of date nights. Monday was the classic Dinner-and-Dancing Night. Wednesday was Drinks-with-Fellow-Couples Night. Friday was Dress-Up-For-Whatever-Party-We’ve-Been-Invited-to-This-Week-and-Make-Out-in-A-Broom-Closet Night.

Thursday was Arno’s favorite, however, because that was Snuggle-Up-on-the-Couch-and-Watch-A-Movie Night. As far as he was concerned, his wife looked as stunning in sweatpants and one of his old t-shirts as she did in an evening gown, with the added benefit of him not having to wait an hour for her to do her hair and makeup. They took turns with the movie choices, alternating between classic French films, Hollywood blockbusters, thrillers, documentaries, and more.

This week, Elise had requested a musical, and he had jokingly suggested they watch the English version of _Les Misérables_ , as they had only watched the stage shows in their native language. Aveline had apparently been infuriated by the movie, particularly Javert’s singing, but they’d taken her complaints with a grain of salt, as she’d been quite bitter about being passed over for a role due to her “not fitting in with the time period.”

Watching it now, they found themselves grateful she’d been rejected.

“Gods, Aveline wasn’t kidding about Russel Crowe,” Arno said, wincing. “I’m not sure what’s worse, his singing or his outfit from the beginning.”

“He looked like Brittany Spears in ‘Toxic.’ Did they not audition these people?” Elise replied, munching on some popcorn.

“The actors or the costume designers?”

“Both. At least Anne Hathaway knows what she’s doing,” she said, snuggling against him. “She really put everything she had into that song. Not that it excuses her accent.”

He glanced down at her, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that if this takes place in France, why does everyone sound British?” Elise asked, rolling her eyes. “If they were concerned enough about accuracy that they didn’t want to have a black woman in it, then the actors should at least have a French accent.”

“What about Thénardier?”

“Oh, yes, the sleazy, comedic creep is clearly French. That doesn’t say anything about what people think of us,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

He chuckled, grabbing a handful of popcorn. “You have a point. _Beauty and the Beast_ did it, too.”

“The original animated film, or the recent remake?”

“Yes.”

She sighed. “Is there any movie nowadays where the French character isn’t relegated to cheap comedy?”

“Lafayette in _Hamilton_ ,” Arno immediately replied. Pausing for a moment, he said, “No wait, he’s pretty comedic, too. Also, not a movie yet.”

“Yes, but that’s the Marquis de Lafayette. He’s the one who sent John Adams a pair of alligators as a gift, remember? He’s allowed to be funny. The important thing is that they made him competent as well and kept the French accent.”

“See then? Not every French character is a fool.”

Affectionately, she pecked him on the cheek. “One exception does not disprove a stereotype, my love.”

“Well, what about that long-nosed gypsy guy in Disney’s _Hunchback of Notre Dame_? He’s got a French accent and is just as threatening as he is funny.”

“The fact that you can’t even remember his name ruins your point,” she said dryly.

“Fair. At least Hollywood doesn’t seem to have as many French villains as they used to.”

“I suppose we should be glad for that. The British seem to have secured that spot pretty thoroughly.”

“Thank God for small blessings, then. I wonder if video games are any better?”

“Doubtful. I’d bet a million dollars that a game set in the French Revolution would give everyone a British accent. Even Napoleon himself.”

“Ugh, you’re probably right.” Cuddling her closer, Arno stared at the TV a few minutes longer. “Can we watch something else, please? My ears are starting to bleed, and these one-shot takes are so close I think I can see what Hugh Jackman ate for lunch between his teeth.”

“I’m irritated too, but we’re almost at Eponine’s sacrifice. You know how much I love this scene.”

“Are you sure you want to trust this movie with it?”

“It’s the most beautiful moment in the play, and I want to see how they translate it on screen, especially since the actress is quite talented. After that, it’s the home stretch.”

Ten minutes later, Elise’s face turned a shade only a fraction lighter than her hair.

“What. The _fuck_. Just happened?” Elise ground out through clenched teeth.

Had Arno not been so angry himself, he would have been concerned about his wife’s blood pressure. “Did they really have her pull the fucking nozzle of the gun towards herself?”

“She’s supposed to have been shot climbing up the barricade, pushing through her obvious pain to bring Cosette’s letter to Marius!” she screamed, throwing the bowl of popcorn to the ground. “It shows she’d do anything to make him happy, even if it literally kills her! Instead, they went for the cliché of having her take a bullet for him in the heat of the moment? And in such a _stupid_ way?!”

“Why didn’t they have her jump in front of him, or push him to the side, or even tackle the soldier? What the actual fuck?!”

“They ruined my favorite moment in the whole play!”

Marching over to the television, Arno ejected the disk. “Elise, my love, I know it’s technically your turn to pick the movies, but I’m making the executive decision to end this. It’s utterly ruining our cuddle time.”

Taking a handful of deep, calming breaths, she forced herself to calm down. “Yes, this was a bad idea. I will never doubt Aveline’s complaints again. Throw in something else.”

Chuckling, Arno kissed her fiery hair before getting up, glad that their night hadn’t completely soured. “Yes, dear. How about _Robin Hood: Men in Tights_? This way we get a musical where we can watch the British be the fools and the villains, and any ruined romantic moments are for comedy.”

She gave him an adoring smile. “It’s like you read my mind.”

He waggled his eyebrows, sauntering towards her. “Can you read mine?”

She gave a seductive grin, reaching towards him. “I believe I can.”

“Good.” Strolling past her, he tossed a playful grin over his shoulder, chuckling at her confused expression. “Then I’ll make more popcorn while you clean up your mess.”

She scowled, then smirked. “You’re going to pay for that.”

“I certainly hope so!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to anyone who's a fan of the Les Mis movie, but seriously, a) why does everyone sound British, and b) the way they handled Eponine's death enraged me to the point where I literally could never watch it again. Also, while I tease about Russel Crowe's singing, I tend to cut him some slack since I was always going to be biased, considering how the guy who played Javert in my high school's production went on to study opera and sounds like this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UKfXjOYXwEw
> 
> Since the past few chapters have been pre-story events, I'll try to focus on post-story stuff for a while. Suggestions always welcome!


	17. The Kenway Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary and Edward are finally getting married, with all the drama the Kenway family can provide. Luckily, Ed's got plenty of experience handling his daughter's demons, and Mary'd more than willing to put her new stepson in his place.

Altair nervously regarded the yacht. “Why did Kenway have to have his wedding on a boat?”

“Because he’s a madman, brother,” Malik replied, looking far from thrilled himself. Yes, it was on one of Edward’s enormous yachts, and he could swim fine, but that didn’t mean he was looking forward to spending the next several hours on a ship.

Maria shook her head sympathetically. “It’s just for the ceremony and cocktail hour. The actual reception will be back on his private island.”

“The man’s just lucky I owe him for saving your life,” her boyfriend grumbled petulantly.

“And if we’re lucky, there won’t be any Kenway family drama until we’re on dry land,” Malik said.

She looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

Her boss pointed across the deck. “I mean that if Connor kills his father today, we’ll be making a detour into international waters to dump the body.”

“Which means more time on the boat,” Altair groused, already looking a little green around the gills. “Joy.”

“Haytham Kenway is a high-profile man with an almost fanatic obsession with order. I doubt he’ll make a scene,” Maria argued.

“And yet no more than two Kenways are allowed on an international flight together,” he replied dryly.

XXX

“Father?” Connor said, surprised. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Haytham shifted his weight awkwardly, cringing slightly at the way the wooden dock creaked beneath him. He’d never quite taken to the sea the way his son and father did. Even his sister was more at home on a boat than him, a fact she’d teased him about mercilessly when they were children. “Your grandfather and I may not always be on the best of terms, but I’m not going to miss his wedding when he’s bothered to invite me. Even if I do think the whole thing’s foolish.”

“You think it’s foolish to marry the woman you love?” he said in disbelief.

“Spending your life with the one you love is fine; I just think our family has a history of bad luck with marriage. If they don’t end in death or divorce, the fiancée is revealed to be a vicious abuser the week before the wedding.”

Connor winced. He’d been too young to remember Aunt Jenny’s fateful engagement to Reginald Birch, but he was well aware of Edward’s guilt over nearly marrying her off to a monster, and his father’s cold fury the few times he’d been brought up.

“Perhaps we should change the subject. This is poor talk for any wedding.” He gave his son a considering once-over. “I see you’re a groomsman.”

The younger man nodded stiffly. “Yes. I told grandfather I was too old to be the ring-bearer.”

His father blinked in disbelief. “…was that a joke?”

He seemed just as surprised. “I think it was.”

“Well, it wasn’t terrible. Perhaps that girlfriend of yours has been doing you some good.”

“Her name is Aveline, and yes, she has been. She makes me very happy.”

“I suppose that will have to do, then. It’s the reason I married your mother, after all.”

“Not for political gain?” he sneered.

“I know I’ve been harsh on your relationship, but I really do want you to be happy. Miss de Grandpre is beautiful, talented, and of high social standing, but she’s also brash, outspoken, and has a rather…well-documented sexual history. I want to make sure you’re not getting in over your head.”

“I’ve had no complaints so far,” he replied tersely.

“That’s…not what I meant, but good for you, I suppose. I’m merely looking out for your well-being.”

Connor’s dark eyes flashed. “What is your problem? Mother was also brash, outspoken, and never shy about sex. I see no reason why you object to Aveline when you married a woman just like her.”

A shadow fell over his father’s face. “That’s the point. I don’t want you to become like me.”

Before Connor could reply, Aveline took her place at his side. “Is everything alright, _mon nounours_?”

Haytham cut in, “I’m certain you have groomsmen duties to attend to, so I’ll leave you be.” He gave the woman a polite nod. “You look lovely, Miss de Grandpre. Do take care of my son, won’t you? It’s a Kenway wedding; something’s sure to go wrong. If we’re lucky, it’ll be minor enough that no one will notice.”

XXX

“I’m not going to lie, I wasn’t expecting you to wear a dress,” Anne said with a slight chuckle, looking the bride over. The mermaid-style, champagne gown certainly looked good on the older woman, the color nicely complimenting her golden skin. A long, matching veil peppered with crystals trailed along the floor, and the bouquet of vibrant, tropical orchids matched her red lipstick perfectly.

Mary was studying herself critically in the mirror. “Aye, I’m still not sure I believe it myself. Kenway even said he’d be fine if I wore a suit. Anne, was I drunk when I decided on this?”

The maid of honor shrugged, but the smile on her face couldn’t be hidden. “I don’t think so. If you were, you’d have ended up with an enormous ballgown, not that sleek little number.”

“Good point. Still, if I fall overboard, swimming’s going to be a bit of an issue.”

Much as the redhead wanted to laugh, something was bugging her. “Mary, we’ve been friends for a long time, so I want you to be honest with me; are you sure about this?”

“Well, I am starting to second-guess my outfit…”

“I mean about marrying Edward. He’s a good man, but you always said you weren’t the settling-down type. That family’s got its share of baggage, too; Jenny and Haytham won’t be easy stepchildren to handle, fully-grown or not.” Squeezing her shoulder, she looked her in the eye. “Hell, you never wanted children, yet you’re technically going to be a grandmother. Are you ready for all this?”

The brunette fell silent, brow furrowed in thought. After a while, she smiled at her best friend. “I never expected to find love, least of all with someone like him. But I can’t deny that’s what I feel. You’re right that Ed’s a good bloke; he never pushed me to get married. Hell, I was ready to ask him by the time he proposed. He’s an irritating, meddlesome fool, but he’s also loyal, caring, and respectful.” She glanced at the mirror, chuckling at the sight of herself in a gown. “He’s never minded that I sometimes live as a man, and he’s never let our relationship get in the way of business.” Turning back to Anne, she gave the redhead a hug. “Settling down was never part of my plan, but sometimes, plans change for the better. I’ve got no doubts that I’m making the right choice.”

The Irishwoman smiled, squeezing her back tightly. “Good. If anyone can handle that family, it’s you. Now let’s get you to the altar.”

XXX

“Everyone’s on board and taking their seats, Captain,” Adewale said, poking his head in Edward’s cabin. “The ceremony will start in ten minutes.”

The Welshman was fruitlessly attempting to put on his bowtie. “This blasted contraption will be the death of me, Ade. How’d you get yours on?”

“Anne tied it for me, so I’ll be of no help to you. I’m still surprised you decided on suits at all.”

“One of my more idiotic choices, I’m realizing. Should’ve told everyone to just show up in bathing suits. Still a suit, right?”

There was a knock at the door, and Jenny stepped inside, looking radiant despite her age in a powder blue cocktail dress. “I figured I’d check in to see if you’re actually able to dress yourself.” She smirked at her father’s undone tie. “Seems I was right to do so.”

“Jenny, darling, be a peach and help me with this thing before I hang myself with it.”

“That would be quite a feat.”

Adewale chuckled. “Never doubt what your father can achieve, no matter how mad it sounds. I’ll give you both a moment. I should check with Anne, make sure Mary hasn’t come to her senses about all this.”

Nodding in thanks, Jenny strolled over to her father as the best man left to check on the bride. “Honestly, Dad, I’m surprised you even wanted to wear a suit. What were you thinking?”

“That I should try and look respectable for once?”

“I suppose there’s a first for everything, then.” Reaching for the strip of fabric, she paused, hands starting to tremble. Flashes of her Birch pierced her mind, and before she could stop herself, she was gripping her father’s shirt nearly hard enough to tear it.

Edward quickly wrapped her shaking fingers in his large, calloused palms. “Jenny? Are you all right?”

She shook her head violently. “Sorry. The last time I helped you with a tie—”

His expression darkened before withering into guilt. “—was when I was getting fitted for your wedding. Shit, I’m so sorry, Jenny; I wasn’t thinking. If you need, you can stay down here; I’ll tell Adewale to guard the door, make sure no one bothers you. Or Connor. Hell, if he bothered to show up, we can make your brother stand watch. Doubt he wants to see his old man make a fool of himself again.”

Edward felt her shaking hands clench as her eyes narrowed. “No. I’m not letting Birch’s memory keep me from seeing my father married. I just…I need a moment.”

“Take your time, sweetheart. Just remember, he’s gone. Dead and buried, or whatever Haytham did with that bastard’s body.” Much as he wanted to pull her into his arms like when she was a child, he kept her at arm’s length. Jenny hated being held, even twenty years later, unless she initiated it, which was rare. Ocean-blue eyes turned stormy as his teeth clenched. “I never should have set you up with him. Should have seen what a monster he truly was. I should’ve—”

Jenny pulled her hands away to instead pace about the room like a restless tiger. She needed to do something with her hands, something to distract her from the haunting memories. Unfortunately, with the way she was shaking, tying her father’s bowtie was definitely out of the question. “Yes, there are plenty of things you should have done, but berating yourself won’t help anyone. Least of all me.”

Looking around, he spied his suit jacket hanging on the closet door, bumping against the desk in his haste to get to it. “Let’s forget the tie. It’s a deathtrap anyway. Think you could help me with the boutonniere?”

Taking a deep breath, she nodded, grateful for her father’s silent understanding. It was much easier to get the navy-blue jacket out of it’s bag and help him into it than dealing with some stupid tie. He never looked good in them, anyway. Of course, they then had the problem of locating the boutonniere, tearing the room apart in a frantic search. By the time they’d found the small bundle of red flowers that had managed to fall behind the desk, her heart was at a normal pace, though she was more than aware the ceremony should have already started.

“We’re running late. The procession will start any minute.”

“Forget the tie, then. Just help me with the flowers.”

Her eyebrows furrowed as she took in the boutonniere. “Interesting choice.”

“Recognize ‘em? They’re the same ones I gave you when we first met. Same ones I gave your mother on our first date, too.” He walked over to a little end table, pulling out a small box and handing it to her. “Had a matching corsage made for you. If you want to wear it, that is.”

Biting her lip, Jenny carefully put it on. “It doesn’t quite match my dress, but I suppose I can manage. Thank you.”

That brought a smile to Edward’s face, and she looked at him questioningly. “What?”

“Just…your dress. It’s the same color as the one I first saw you in, back when you were ten.”

She blinked, surprised. “I didn’t think you’d remember a thing like that.”

“I remember everything about that day. It was one of the greatest moments in my life. Possibly even more than today.”

Jenny couldn’t quite keep the smile from her lips. “Don’t be ridiculous. This will be far more significant.”

Edward gently brushed her cheek with the back of his hand like he had so often when she was little. “Not likely. Your mother and I may not have worked out, but I’ll be forever grateful to her for giving me the most important lass in my life. I just wish I could have done more for you both.”

A single tear came to her eye, which she wiped away harshly. “No more of that. I’m not letting your foolishness ruin my makeup before the damn wedding. The photos will look horrible.”

“You could never look horrible.”

“That’s true, but you will if Mary dumps you overboard for making her wait. It was your idea to hold it on a boat, after all.”

Chuckling, Edward held out his arm. “Boat? I see no boat here. But I guess I do have a wedding on my _ship_ to get to. Care to escort me so I don’t lose my way?”

She took it with a grin. “I suppose I should. Your sense of direction is terrible. Perhaps you should let me take the helm after the ceremony, just so we get to the reception in one piece.”

“Aye, aye, Captain Scott.”

XXX

Despite the groom’s lateness, the ceremony went perfectly, with a cool breeze keeping the Caribbean heat at bay while the brilliant sun danced on the tropical waters. Afterwards, as Jenny and Adewale took the wheel to get everyone back to the island, Edward and Mary decided to mingle with the guests. Heading over to his friends, the Welshman happily clasped hands with Ezio. “Glad you lot could make it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, my friend,” the Italian replied happily. “Though it seems you nearly did.”

“It’s a Kenway wedding; apparently, something has to go wrong,” Mary said dryly.

“I misplaced my boutonniere! I couldn’t very well get married without it!”

“Yet you could get married without your tie?”

“Absolutely. The boutonniere was essential to the scenery. It matched your bouquet and everything. The bleeding bowtie was useless."

Altair nodded stiffly, still looking a little green, though he did manage a smile. “It was a beautiful ceremony.”

“He almost shed a tear,” Maria chuckled, kissing the groom on the cheek. “Though that might have been from holding back his seasickness.”

Grinning, Edward chastely returned the gesture. “Pity he didn’t. I’ve heard legends that the bloke’s tears can cure all diseases. Now we'll never know, and the world is doomed.”

“Oh, haha.”

Ezio glanced around the tastefully decorated yacht. “I’m surprised at how…minimal everything is. I’d assumed you’d insist on a pirate-themed extravaganza. Did Mary put her foot down?”

He let out a hearty laugh, and even the bride had to chuckle. “Nah. Just didn’t want the hassle. I eloped the first time. Second one had all the trimmings, but the marriage didn't last any longer. This time, I just wanted it to be friends and family coming together to wish us well. No need to go overboard, eh?”

“Apt choice of words,” Malik said dryly.

XXX

Once the reception was well underway, Mary found herself pulled into a waltz with Haytham.

“Please try to keep my father from doing anything particularly embarrassing on the honeymoon,” he said haughtily. “There’s an election coming up, and I don’t need my reputation sullied by his antics.”

The bride raised a dark eyebrow. “Those are your first words to your new stepmum? I can see our relationship’s off to a charming start.”

He had the good sense to look abashed. “Apologies. You look radiant, and I hope you’ll be very happy together.”

“That’s better.” Before the man could blink, she’d taken the lead on the dance. “I’ll keep an eye on Ed, but you need to start treating him more like a father and less like a burden. He’s invited you to spend Christmas with him the last three years. This year you’re accepting. And start being nicer to Connor, especially where Aveline’s concerned. I’ll not let my new grandson be mistreated.”

“You heard about that?”

“The kid’s got a good poker face, but I’ve learned how to get him to spill his guts. I respect your desire to protect him, but not at the cost of his happiness. Especially not on my wedding day.”

He sighed. “I suppose I owe you another apology. I probably shouldn’t have come here; our family has a poor history when it comes to weddings.”

“Not always. This one turned out all right, and I heard yours was lovely.”

“It’s the lovely ones that sting the most; it makes me think too much of Ziio.”

“Well, think of how happy Ziio would be if you behaved yourself well enough to get invited to your son's eventual wedding. And if that doesn't work, think of my fist in your face if you don't straighten up. Are we clear?"

A tiny smile touched his stern face. “Yes, madam. I suppose I really should watch myself; you seem like a woman to be feared.”

“Aye, that I am. Remember, you’re not too big to put over my knee, boy. I’ve done it to your father plenty of times, though he rather likes it,” she said salaciously.

“Good God, I did not need to know that,” Haytham replied, screwing his eyes shut in disgust.

“That’s what you get for sassing me. I can’t ground you, so I’ve got to be more creative.”

“May I have the next dance?” came a voice from behind them.

Mary turned and smiled at Connor. “Of course. Might as well go for the hat trick with the Kenway men.”

Nodding stiffly, Haytham passed her over to his son. “I hope you have a long and happy marriage, Mary. My father is lucky to have you.”

“Thank you. Now go tell him that, too, or you’ll be getting a phone call outlining _everything_ we do on our honeymoon.”

Once Haytham scurried off the dance floor, Mary gave Connor a grin. “Anne was right; I might be in over my head with this family.”

The young man smiled, taking her hand. “You handled my father quite well.”

“At the cost of traumatizing him.”

“A fair price.”

“I just hope his doom and gloom mentality hasn’t scared you away from the altar.”

“I was going to say the same thing. The last wedding I attended, the bride got cold feet and I had to track her down. I’m glad I didn’t have to do the same to you. Given our family, you’d have enough reason to.”

“I don’t run from a challenge; I face it head-on. And don’t avoid the subject; did Haytham scare you off from popping the question?”

A warm, almost dreamy grin touched his face. “Not a chance. I’ve already got the ring picked out, I just thought it best to wait until your day was over. I’d hate to steal your thunder.”

“Steal my thunder? I’m sorry, have you seen how I look in this dress?”

His laugh was soft and warm. “Good point. I promise it will be soon.”

“Call me as soon as she says ‘yes?’”

“Don’t worry, Grandmother; I will.”

Her face scrunched up. “Yeah, I’m sorry, but that’s not going to work for me.”

“Calling you?”

“Calling me ‘Grandmother.’ It’s Mary, James, or nothing.”

“Very well, Nothing.”

“Oh, you do have some of Ed’s sass. I was worried, what with the stick up your father’s ass.”

“Father can be playful when he wants to be. Mostly back when Mother was alive.”

“Then I guess that spark comes out with the right woman. Ziio with your dad, Aveline with you.”

“And you bring it out even more with Grandfather. He’s a lucky man.”

“You’d better believe it.”

XXX

At the end of the night, Mary and Edward lay next to each other in the bedroom, basking in the afterglow of their first time as a married couple.

“So, how’s it feel to be a wife?” he panted.

Mary smirked. “Better than I expected.”

“Good. Hope that feeling stays for a while.”

“It will if you tell me why you were really late to the ceremony. Didn’t get cold feet, did you?”

Worrying his lip, he hesitated. “Jenny was having a panic attack, so I hid the boutonniere behind the desk. Looking for it distracted her long enough to calm down.”

That brought a smile to Mary’s red lips. “You’re a good father.”

“If I’d been a better one, she wouldn’t be having these attacks in the first place.” He pulled her closer. “You know, I would have understood if you didn’t want to get married. I’m a right idiot half the time, and my family’s not the easiest to deal with. We Kenways are bad luck for marriages.”

Wrapping her arms around his broad chest and entwining their legs, she rested her head on his collarbone. “I’ll admit, they take some maneuvering. Yours is a family of broken hearts, from lost mothers to dead lovers. Connor’s a good lad; it just takes some work getting him to open up. Jenny’s lost two mothers and endured an abusive boyfriend, so I don’t blame her for not getting close to people. She does adore you, though, and I’m sure if she’d objected to the wedding, we’d have heard of it. And Haytham…” she trailed off.

“He didn’t cause you any trouble, did he? I know he’s a judgmental prick sometimes, but he is my son—”

“Haytham’s protective. Not just of his reputation, but of his family. He’s just shite at showing it. He scorns Aveline because he sees too much of Ziio in her and doesn’t want Connor to suffer the same heartbreak he did. He tells me to keep you from embarrassing yourself, but I think he’s really telling me to keep you out of trouble. And while he and Jenny aren’t close, he was the one who found out Birch was abusing her.”

“Still wish he’d left a piece of the bastard for me,” Edward growled.

“Aye, perhaps it could have been a bonding moment for you two, killing him together.” She sighed, idly tracing his tattoos. “Your family’s strange, scattered, and a little bit broken, but you all love each other, and that’s what matters most.”

“So, you’ll stick around?’

“For as long as you’ll have me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the missed week and all the feels. Work's been rough, so what was going to be a light-hearted, silly chapter ended up being a bit more of a feels trip. Doesn't help that the Kenways are basically the poster children for tragedy.


	18. The Wedding Dress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ladies gather together to speculate on Maria's wedding dress. What they get exceeds any of their expectations.

Sitting on a white leather couch the mansion’s parlor, Claudia, Elise, Aveline, and Evie sipped champagne as they waited for Maria to show them the wedding dress she’d picked out. Though they’d all been disappointed that she declined their offers to take her shopping, they’d been more than thrilled when they found out it was because she’d already gotten a custom gown from Lebanese designer [Rami Kadi](http://www.rami-kadi.com/) and wanted them to be the first to see it while Altair was away on a work trip.

“I can’t wait. You just know Altair’s going to want her dressed to the nines,” Elise enthused. “According to Arno, that man’s been secretly dreaming of his wedding day his whole life. I’ll bet he’s going to want her coming down the aisle in a pure, white ballgown with a diamond-encrusted tiara.”

Evie shook her head. “Even if that’s what he wants, Maria’s not the princess type.”

Elise waved her hand dismissively. “Honey, on her wedding day, every woman is the princess type.”

“I wasn’t,” she reminded.

“Yes, you were, just of the Indian variety. I remember that red saree and all the gold jewelry you wore.”

She shrugged, a little embarrassed. “Henry’s family is quite traditional and descended from royalty, so they wanted me to look the part. That meant being weighed down by silks and gold in the hot, Indian sun. I certainly felt like a princess, in that everyone had to do everything for me. Even Jacob was fussing over me during the reception, making water runs and checking that I wasn’t getting heat stroke.” She smiled at the thought. At first, she’d been suspicious of how much her brother had been doting on her, but she’d seen genuine concern as the day went on. Later, he admitted he didn’t like how she’d caved under the pressure to please Henry’s parents at the expense of her own comfort, but he couldn’t exactly chew out her future in-laws, so it was the least he could do. It was rather sweet of him, really.

“You looked good, though,” Aveline assured, “and Henry looked ready to cry when he saw you. Like all his dreams had come true.”

“Damn right I did,” she said with a grin, clinking their glasses together. “Even if I was hot and drowning in silk, I made my suffering look good.”

“The fact remains that you were still a princess for the day because you knew your husband would love it, and Maria’s no different,” Elise said smugly. “I guarantee it she’ll be coming out here in a gorgeous, crystal-embellished ballgown that would put Cinderella to shame.”

Claudia shook her head. “She’d be miserable in a big ballgown. Too hard to sit and dance, and even without beading, she’d find it too extravagant. Besides, if I know my cousin, he’d prefer her in something sleek and sexy. I’m betting on a Mermaid dress to really show off her figure.”

Again, Evie disagreed. “Maria’s too practical for a Mermaid. The tightness would restrict her movements. She likes having the use of her legs, after all.”

Aveline nodded. “Anything she’d have to take small steps in is out of the question. I agree on the sexy aspect, though. Personally, I think she’s going to shock us all with a low-cut, silk, sheath dress with a high slit, so Altair can suffer all night restraining himself. Girl’s got a devious streak to rival Ezio hidden beneath that straitlaced facade.”

“If she wants to drive him wild, then she’d wear the ballgown,” Elise argued. “With what you’re describing, it would be easy for them to sneak off for a quickie. A full ballgown? He’d barely get to touch her, forced to endure layers and layers of fabric between him and his prize. Trust me on this; there’s a reason Arno and I had to extend our honeymoon.”

“We need to take the ceremony into account,” Evie said, sipping her drink. “Dubai’s pretty liberal for most Middle-Eastern countries, but they’re still strict about women showing skin in a mosque. If they’re having a Muslim ceremony, she won’t be wearing anything revealing.”

“They haven’t picked a venue yet, but Maria said it’s going to be a small, private ceremony, just close friends and family. Altair’s opinions on organized religion aren’t exactly… _kind_ , anyway, so there will be no church, mosque or otherwise,” Claudia said, pouring herself more champagne. Then again, as outspoken as her cousin could be on why every religion sucked, at least he hadn’t punched the Pope. That dubious honor belonged to Ezio.

Aveline held out her glass, smiling as the Italian topped it off. “I suppose the press has been hounding you for details, Miss Maid-of-Honor?”

She gave a devilish smirk. “I may have let it ‘slip’ to TMZ at the last runway show that the wedding would be in Morocco.”

“Funny, just last Tuesday I ‘accidentally’ told Vanity Fair they were thinking Japan.”

Evie sniggered. “Goodness! I’m so out of the loop! I told the reporters they’d settled on a tiny castle in Scotland.”

Cackling, Elise added, “ _Merde_ , and here I’d already been overheard saying it would be in Paris. How foolish of me!”

All four women got a good laugh, pleased that they’d all been on the same page keeping the paparazzi away from the happy couple’s big day.

They all went silent as the click of high heels echoed faintly down the hall, signaling the bride-to-be’s approach.

“Now, remember, no matter what she’s wearing, as her bridesmaids, it’s our job to be supportive,” Evie whispered. “So, no complaining that it’s not poofy enough, or isn’t sexy, or it’s too simple. It’s Maria’s wedding, and we’re here to make her feel beautiful.”

“Of course,” Claudia replied, a little insulted that she felt they needed to be reminded. “All that matters is that she’s happy and marrying my cousin.”

At that moment, Maria stepped into the room, and the ladies’ jaws collectively dropped. It wasn’t at all what they’d predicted, though it was certainly her style. The silhouette was simple; A-line, just past the knees, perfect for a night of dancing with the love of her life. The sweetheart neckline provided a discreet amount of cleavage, just enough to be sexy without the risk of offending any of Dubai’s more conservative residents. Even the low back was modest, stopping a couple inches below the shoulder blades. Wide, black, straps kept the dress up while showing off her toned shoulders, and a matching belt kept them from being out of place.

What shocked them was the [color](https://www.instagram.com/p/BfRc4RVHtRz/?taken-by=lebaneseweddings).

Instead of white, the entire surface of the gown covered in meticulously placed crystals in various shades of red, from ruby to crimson to garnet. The vibrant gemstones caught the light and twinkled merrily, while their arrangement created hard, geometric lines that contrasted nicely with her soft curves. It was unique yet simple, mixing practicality with something completely memorable.

In other words, it was perfectly Maria.

The Englishwoman grinned, pleased with their reactions. If the dress had rendered her opinionated group of friends speechless, she could only imagine what it would do to Altair. “I’m guessing you like it?”

Elise was the first to recover, if barely. “Holy shit.”

“Agreed,” Aveline said, getting up to take a closer look at the dress. The craftsmanship was impeccable, with each gem lining up perfectly and not a stich out of place. She made a mental note to ask for the designer’s number. “You look amazing.”

“Why thank you. I was worried Rami wouldn’t like that I wanted to keep the silhouette simple, but the second I told him I wanted red, he absolutely lit up. Seems he’s had this idea bouncing around in his head for quite some time and was waiting for the perfect woman to bring it to life.”

“It’s not too heavy, is it?” Evie asked, walking over to inspect the fabric. She knew from experience too many gemstones, even small ones, could be uncomfortable when piled on. On top of that, the fabric would have to be sturdy to support it all, adding even more weight. Could she handle eight hours in such a dress?

Maria shrugged, her powerful shoulders unhindered by the gown they were supporting. “Not really. The crystals do weigh it down a bit, but he knew I was stronger than the average bride. He said he’s been waiting for someone who could handle it,” she laughed.

“It was worth the wait. You look incredible,” Claudia gushed, getting up to give her a hug. “Altair is going to completely fall in love with you all over again.”

She blushed under the praise. “Want to know the best part? It has pockets,” she said, pulling out her phone.

“Lucky bitch!” Elise cried. “I had to keep my phone in my cleavage all night!”

“Henry held onto mine. I swear, anyone who doesn’t think women need pockets should be shot,” Evie groused. “It’s the patriarchy trying to keep us down.”

Claudia gave a fist-bump. “Preach, sister. I once worked with a designer that didn’t get why women needed pockets when we had purses. I spent an hour trying to explain, and he still didn’t get it. That partnership didn’t last long.”

“I can imagine,” Maria chuckled. She gave a little twirl. “So, do I exceed your expectations?”

“Oh, hell yes,” Aveline enthused. “I’m almost tempted to marry you myself.”

Maria fluttered her eyelashes coyly. “I’m flattered, but I’m afraid I must decline. I simply couldn’t do that to Connor.”

“What about Altair?” Claudia teased.

“Oh, I guess he’d be upset, too, what with all the work he’s been putting into planning this. I suppose I have no choice but to go through with marrying him.”

The ladies laughed, happily popping open another bottle of champagne before settling in to help Maria choose her jewelry, shoes, and hairstyle.

They’d all been waiting for this wedding and damned if they weren’t going to make sure everything was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this. Work has been insanely stressful, so I'm going to have to take a break from this fic for a while. I just haven't had the energy to come up with new chapters, even short ones. It's not abandoned, but it'll probably be at least a month before I post anything for it again. Still, feel free to leave suggestions in the comments, and I'd love to hear your opinions on my work.


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